One night, last January, as I was managing my flicr shots, I heard a very distinctive sound coming from the fields out back. It could mean only one of two things was going on out there. Either, there was a masked maniac with a chainsaw chasing some victim, OR there was a female fox in heat, advertising. I immediately remembered my conversation with the bobblehead, "it was a little golden fox and it looked hungry."
There was an underage blond fox soliciting. It was snowing. She was probably hungry and cold and, if she had anything to do with it, before too long would be a mother. I drummed my fingers on the desk. I could help her. Just for the winter. Give her babies a good start. I wouldn't be really involved. Just sort of helping out Roxy.
OMG, I'd named her, what next.