Tuesday, July 04, 2006

Foxy lady

Our neighbourhood in south London is fairly quiet, fairly safe. It's an
uneventful end of the city that has little happening in it but for a few
days a year when Wimbledon tennis blows through the neighbourhood two
train stops away. We're in the middle of that maelstrom, though it's
only really that busy near the station and along Wimbledon Park Road
where the shuttle buses run.
I'm actually not really going to say much about Wimbledon, the
neighbourhood, the park or the tennis courts/games. I've been up doing a
little shopping but that's about it. But animals are a big thing around
this part of London and they occupy my thoughts a lot.
The local Wandsworth brewery, Young's, recently folded up production,
but it did something special until recently: it locally delivered the
beer by horse-drawn carriage. Now that's something you don't see
everyday, anymore. On the horsey front, periodic police patrols wander
by on horse. I've been walking the dog down by King George's Park and
almost bumped into a horse's ass. The dog has never been aroiund horses
and he took it in much better stride than I thought he would. I kinda
thought he would want to chase or herd them or something, but he's been
remarkably calm.
We also have the problem of foxes. Foxes are the racoons of London.
Somewhere around 22-2230h we start to see foxes wandering the streets.
They get into the garbage, bother cats and dogs and generally do, foxy
Late last week walking Ken up for his last whizz of the day he stopped
and snuffled under the fence of the the tennis courts. Pull as I might,
when he decides the parking brake is on only lifting all four up off the
ground will get him moving. After a minute or so I got curious what was
on the other side of the the fence (steak? greener grass?) and did a
chin-up over the fence. Sure enough, what did I see? One of the biggest
grey foxes in the area. He was only a bit smaller than my dog, maybe
pushing 14-15 kg.
Ken has always had a slight foxy look to him. More so when he was a
puppy; he's grown to look like an transitional between a fox and a wolf.
His face is still foxy but his ears are wolfier. But people still comment.
There's a skinnier one around here that keeps looking Ken up and down
when we see each other. He sees the resemblance and realizes that at 18
kilos, Ken's a chubby fox and must know the best foraging/scrounging

Posted by
The Eternal Gaijin (email)
London, UK

Words are incapable of describing what I am about to tell you.

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