After Rosie and Carlitos discovered a family of foxes had taken up residence in their territory, the wind wasn’t the only thing sending a shiver down their spine.
This is the third part of Rosie’s latest adventure. You can catch up on the first part here and the second part here, or enjoy another of her adventures here and here.
Rosie the Three-legged Dragon and her little brother, Carlitos just made a shocking discovery: A family of foxes had taken up residence in their territory, and being sly, tricky creatures, that were not to be trusted under any circumstances, they weren’t even aware of the intrusion until they caught the unmistakable scent on the wind during one of their nightly patrols. Thus, the wind wasn’t the only thing that night sending a shiver down their spine. While their human servants might not understand how the mere presence of a fox and her cubs near their lair could cause outright panic, we are too far removed from the primal world our pets think they inhabit to grasp the implications. Though dogs and foxes are close cousins in evolutionary terms, belonging to the same Canidae family and on rare occasions can interbreed, birthing a hybrid known as a “dogxim,” they are fierce competitors in the wild, hunting the same small mammals and birds. Deer were a nuisance, bear a potential threat, rabbits, squirrels, and ground hogs either fun to chase or in an ideal world, food, and birds either too fast or ideally, food as well, but foxes and coyotes were potential thieves, interlopers, subversives who would hunt what was rightfully theirs and this made them unique. Under normal circumstances, both species made their lair far into the woods, beyond Rosie or Carlitos’s reach, limiting their exposure to barking at one crossing their territory or catching the scent of one who’d snuck through days earlier. The presence of one actually in their territory is another matter, however, a full blown crisis that caused the brains of both dogs and dragons to light up in a fury of rage and in their cases, confusion about how to respond.
Rosie, believing she is a dragon, wanted to launch an immediate attack, to figuratively fly right over to their den and reign fire upon them until the threat was exterminated or driven off. Carlitos, believing he was a spy, preferred a more subtle approach, wanting to observe and then infiltrate rather than doing anything hasty – while dogs are bigger and in principle stronger than foxes, foxes are wild animals, far more desperate when threatened and far more used to having to fight for their survival on their own without the help of human servants and all of the advantages they provide despite their many, many foibles and idiosyncrasies, some of which will become even more apparent as this story progresses. Of course, dogs can’t talk, much less share their ideas – to the extent they have ideas in any event – and both of them were on leashes anyway, largely at the mercy of their human servants who could yank them where they wished, much to their dismay. Though they might have had big plans, they were going back to the lair whatever they wished and so, the patrol ended with both Rosie and Carlitos demoralized, hanging their heads and dragging their feet the entire way without any resolution to the pressing issue at hand. Rosie in particular, believing she was the rightful queen of all things she surveyed, felt that things would never be right again until the fox was properly dealt with it, becoming so upset it seemed the crafty creature was everyone and nowhere, smiling at her in the dark from the shadows of the trees, pacing them from just far enough away, the ghost of a canine rather than the regular kind. There was no escape from the image, even as Rosie had never seen this actual fox before, the memory, even as they were memories of other foxes racing through her mind, the scent, which was blended with others, leading to the distillation of the ideal form, as though she was truly haunted by this notoriously pesky beast and would be until the end of her days.
Fortunately or unfortunately, dogs and dragons have short attention spans, especially when food is involved and as either luck or fate would have it, the nightly patrol always ended with a treat. The moment the leashes were off, both Rosie and Carlitos forgot all about the fox for a while in their race to the pantry, where they exhibit wildly divergent behaviors to obtain the same thing, though such a difference of approach is certainly not unique to dogs. Rosie, being a dragon, was all fire as she’d hoped to be with the fox before completely forgetting about it. Even on three legs, she hopped around, bucking up and down like a horse, her ears perked up, tongue lolling, and mouth grinning while Carlitos, fancying himself a spy, took a more casual, stealthy approach, showing no emotion, only a quiet determination. He simply stood there instead of prancing about, looking up at a daddy only somewhat interested, more curious than covetous, but the end result was the same. Both took their treats – to be sure Carlitos was a little more gentle than Rosie – and raced off for a little privacy to enjoy them. In this regard, Rosie has another rather bizarre ritual, a relic of when she had an older sister Lily and the two needed to be separated during meals for fear Rosie would be attacked. In what we would call the family room, she had a lair within a lair with a door that could be closed that used to be a critical refuge from Lily’s reign of terror. While it was no longer necessary given her much improved relationship with Carlitos, she still took her treats there, was known to do the same with any plastic or light container mommy or daddy let her lick while cooking dinner, picking it up in her mouth before racing off, and even though she no longer ate her meals inside, would wait upon the food, safe before it was served only to hop out once mommy placed it in her special bowl, which was a little raised to make it easier to eat on three legs. Carlitos was a little less predictable, usually, but not always choosing a comfortable spot on the corner of the couch, where he chewed away without interruption.
Whatever the case, the couch was the gathering spot afterwards. Bellies full and patrol completed, all thoughts of foxes or much of anything else were gone from their minds as Rosie and Carlitos nestled themselves around mommy and daddy for the rest of the evening. As a greyhound by birth before a dragon by choice, this meant that Rosie assumed a position known as roaching. Rather than lying on her stomach or side, she turned over onto her back, legs splayed into the air like an upside down insect, exposing what daddy referred to as the “Stinky Paw” after she accidentally stepped in poop one day, tongue listing slightly out of her mouth, sometimes her head and neck hanging over the edge far enough she almost touched the floor. Frequently, she would position herself to use either mommy or daddy’s lap as a pillow, greyhounds being way too large to simply be lap dogs, but the roaching was the most important part of the process and having enough room for a dog that measures close to six feet from snout to tail was the primary concern. For mommy, daddy, and Carlitos, this meant that Rosie might well take up two cushions on her own, along with part of a third, requiring them to arrange themselves wherever they might fit, especially when they all knew Rosie was very particular about her spots and was prone to get angry if anyone tried to move her, another relic of her trying time with an older sister. While Carlitos wasn’t a greyhound and sometimes he would lie down curled up in a little ball, he would often imitate his sister in the roaching position, laying on his back and splaying his legs. If you looked closely, however, his little tongue wasn’t stuck out, making it a poor copy of the original, or at least Rosie thought so, believing she was the superior animal by far.
Regardless, the evening and the following morning passed without incident and Rosie began her day with the usual routine, which as you might have guessed was also rather unique. Around 7:00 AM she busted into mommy and daddy’s room from a couch in the hallway where she spent most of the night, jumped up on the bed, plopped herself beside or between them, and began fussing – half crying, half growling, and mouthing at the air with fake bites – until they woke up and petted her profusely. While most dogs and dragons prefer to start the day with breakfast, Rosie preferred her morning worship prior to her first meal and the day after discovering the family of foxes that had taken up residence was no different. For his part, Carlitos was far less predictable, as usual. Sometimes, he’d launch himself on the bed along with mommy, daddy, and his older sister to do his best impression of an opera singer. Others, he would remain in his favorite human servant’s room until breakfast was served. Occasionally, he wouldn’t even come down for breakfast, something Rosie herself could never understand, except that smaller dogs can be rather strange. There was, however, no rhyme or reason to it and either way, Carlitos didn’t wake up with images of foxes racing through his mind that morning either. He too had forgotten the incident entirely, pretending like it was a normal day and the events of the prior evening had been a bad dream or something. In some ways, this behavior might seem strange from a human perspective. Let’s face it, dogs don’t have all that much to do during and one might think the presence of a dangerous intruder in their territory would be at least something to fret about. In others, dogs don’t really think and those that live in comfortable homes, with humans to fret over the details were especially prone to the old adage about something out of sight being out of mind.
For better or worse, this could not be the case forever, not when the family of foxes had taken up residence in their territory and would necessarily show themselves at some point, but it did last for about a week until something even stranger happened. Rather than being incensed at the intrusion, the human servants seemed pleased to discover the foxes were living there, or at least that’s the only thing Rosie and Carlitos could conclude when they actually saw the mother on another patrol. This time it was during the day, when the humans could see what they were dealing with the for the first time, but little good that did them. As they were walking down the street, having made the turn across the field beside the lair, the female fox came right up behind them, passed by with a barely concealed grin, the orange fur blazing in the sun, crossed in front on those short, smooth legs in what could only be considered outright mockery, and then disappeared into the woods, bushy tail bobbing behind her as a final insult. Throughout, the fox was so sly and tricky, neither Rosie nor Carlitos knew the creature was even behind them, keeping pace, and didn’t really notice her presence until she came up even with the group and specifically allowed herself to be seen, as though she could appear and disappear at will, an incredible and disturbing occurrence consider a dog’s amazing sense of smell and hearing. After getting over her shock at having failed to notice what she considered their chief adversary following them for who knew how long, Rosie was sure the sight of her smiling ahead was enough for her to rip off poor daddy’s arm, she pulled so hard on the leash after the fox, every instinct urging her onward, but before she got far, she found herself so stunned by his reaction, she couldn’t move a whisker, flummoxed once again in the course of a few seconds. Carlitos appeared equally baffled when both mommy and daddy watched the fox pass by with barely concealed enjoyment instead of contempt, marveling at the easy way she loped along, even reaching into their pockets for those strange devices they’re always pointing at everything. In fact, daddy seemed ready to hand the leash to mommy and take after the fox himself, maybe even adopt it. Even though neither Rosie nor Carlitos would use that term, both of them knew enough about people to understand when they are enthused rather than horrified, and when their reaction doesn’t match the canine reaction, they know enough to be horrified themselves.
Horror could only last so long, however. The fox almost immediately disappeared, but that wasn’t the end of it. Later, they met another human walking by herself and though Rosie couldn’t be sure, it seemed the family of foxes was the subject of the conversation, and once again, rather than incensed at the intrusion, the humans were delighted. Baby foxes, right by the house? That’s wonderful or some such nonsense, I hope we can see them, everyone’s talking about it. Isn’t it lucky we live here, surrounded by nature? Of course, she could not understand all of these details, but deep down inside she knew it and even worse, the horror she felt started changing into something else, perhaps an even more terrible emotion: Jealousy. Why was everyone making such fuss over these upstart intruders who certainly can’t be trusted? Could it be that mommy and daddy would actually adopt one, and they’d be forced to live with a fox in their lair? A week earlier, the idea would be inconceivable. Rosie and Carlitos lived in the lair while every other animal lived outside. This was simply the way of things, or at least it had been, but now, Rosie couldn’t say for sure. While this line of thinking might seem ridiculous for a human knowing that foxes are wild animals and do not make fit pets, that’s a distinction dogs simply aren’t able to make. For all they are aware, foxes, coyotes, deer, bear, and everything else had human servants of their own hidden out in the woods wherever the live and the simple fact that all of the humans in the neighborhood seemed thrilled with presence of these cursed foxes was enough to make her question what would happen next.
In that case, it’s not unfair to say that we started out as a physical crisis – that is, the intrusion of the fox into her territory – rapidly became an emotional one, a crisis of identity, conscience, take your pick, and perhaps needless to say neither dogs nor dragons were prepared to deal with crises of any of these kinds. Carlitos, however, didn’t seem to be nearly as concerned. From all Rosie could tell, he took this rather disturbing and incomprehensible development in stride, continuing with the rest of the patrol like everything was normal and they’d encountered foxes several times per week. Perhaps he was working on a plan, but it certainly didn’t seem that way, or at least his butt was tucked in as ever before while he pranced around practically on parade. Was it possible he was compromised somehow, turned into a double agent, Rosie the Three-legged Dragon, perhaps needless to say, saw foxes in every shadow even worse than before and wondered if anything would ever be normal again, but isn’t that the case with almost every one of her adventures? At that point, she couldn’t say for sure, but she’d the vague feeling most of her life, at least in these stories, had been spent careening from crisis to crisis, and while that wasn’t exactly comforting it did give her some confidence she’d prevail, somehow or another. She was, after all, a dragon. What could stand in her way? Though she wasn’t yet capable of coming up with a plan, there were the beginnings of an idea, a sequence, a plan to have a plan to the extent dogs and dragons have plans at all. If she couldn’t count on her human servants or Carlitos, the least she could do was figure out where this horrible fox lived and have a word or two with her herself. What could go wrong?
TO BE CONTINUED…
You can catch enjoy another of her adventures here and here while you wait for the next installment.
