The life and times of a happy go lucky blogger in London
Dear Mr and Mrs Fox…
Categories: blogging mums, London


Dear Mr and Mrs Fox…

It is inappropriate to let your children roam the streets and rile up the neighbourhood after midnight.
Waking up the head of the household by trying to break in is akin to burglary.
You have been warned.
The grumpy person who got woken up last night
PS: don’t even think of touching my bins again or using my lawn as a toilet.
You have been warned…

If only it were that easy to communicate with the feral canines that lay in wait til nightfall only to emerge and taunt us with their wanderings and wailings until dawn.

The family of foxes at the bottom of my garden is a long running saga. I now understand why people believe they have supernatural qualities after seeing one of the adult foxes launch itself up the garden path and onto the decking and then literally fly through the trellis which divides my garden from the neighbours. They possess leonine qualities with their amazing coats and hypnotic eyes. The are fascinating to watch from afar but they’re also a bit scary up close. It’s no wonder that the wiley fox features heavily in myths, legends and fairy tales, they’re pretty sneaky and predatory, plus they do tend to wake the neighbourhood when they start their banshee-like mating calls.

They have secreted our tortoise into their lair which is an excavation underneath the shed. She has not emerged from hibernation yet so we fear the worst but have not given up hope yet. And the fragile structure that houses our meagre collection of garden tools is precariously balanced. In fact there is now so much soil dug out from under it that I fear the whole thing will collapse into the hole beneath very soon.

Last night I slept on the sofa as my daughter has a friend staying so they’re in my bed. Around 1am there was someone or something trying to get in the back door. I shot up from under the cover and grabbed my mobile phone. I’d left the kitchen light on so could see out. There was nothing. Until I looked a little lower and spotted what I thought was a cat’s face. Cheeky little sod. Must have the wrong house.

Not the world’s bravest of people when things go bump in the night, my heart was pounding and my pulse racing, even though I’d identified the culprit behind the disturbance. I lay down again. This time holding my phone, just in case. That just in case turned out to be a matter of time. The rattling on the door got louder. This time I was mightily pissed off. So instead of quivering behind the bedsheets, I got up and ran to the door to switch on the outside light.

Two baby foxes turned tail and ran like frightened rabbits across the garden back to their lair. They must have been hungry. As I lay back down again I thought about how to get rid of the pests.
‘Bloody annoying. Blah blah-waking me up in the middle of the night-scavengers-blah blah-zzzz’
I woke up disoriented and uncomfortable and went up stairs to wake Miniminx and her friend.

Two little girls cosied up in sleep, mops of hair side by side lay still on the pillows, no faces visible behind a huge white duvet. Achingly cute. Not dissimilar to the gallivanting nocturnal creatures which had woken me a few hours earlier either.

I woke them and told them about the fox cubs. And then I thought the poor animals must have been hungry, and maybe even their Mother gone missing. Maybe I should leave food out for them.

Pah! Lack of sleep.

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