Outfoxed

Food is the stuff of life, or so the saying kinda goes.  In our house, food is life – and forget the other stuff.  I once knew of a woman who cooked a roast chicken every day to leave in her fridge for the family to pick at when they got home from work and school.  At the time I laughed heartily at the idea, but right now I’m considering it, as the dash to the fridge inevitably ends in chaos and carnage as the last Frube is battled for, and deals are cut over the piece of salami that has sat in solitary confinement for the past week.  Slim pickings indeed, but the fact is that by the end of the month and heading towards pay day always means that my fridge resembles Mother Hubbards cupboard.  It is then that I go into Ready Steady Cook mode: Ainsley Harriott would be proud of me as I magic up a main meal out of a tin of baked beans, some dried apricots, the rescued bit of salami, some maraschino cherries in kirsch and some couscous (no, not really, but you get the gist…)Even the animals get in on the act – the cats are happy with the tins of tuna that I stock up on every shopping trip as if somehow Sainsburys will one day run out (unfortunately they don’t like Oxo cubes, which happens to be the other staple) – and Muttley cleans their bowls for them when they have stalked off with fishy hisses.

This year, pre-Muttley, we had fox cubs in our garden.  It was a bit by default really, the mother turned up with the tiny babies a couple of times in July, and then one day she completely disappeared and the cubs continued to come, looking a little forlorn.  It was when one of them injured his leg (it looked a bit mangled), that I relented, and every other day I would leave some toast crusts or forgotten-in-our-pocket-biscuits out for them, and they would sit outside our French windows into the lounge watching their favourite TV programme of Look at the Humans Watching Telly.  On more than one occasion after a night out I would share a taxi home with friends and one of them would joke ‘I see your guard dog’s waiting for you’, and lo and behold a nearly grown cub would be sitting by the gatepost to my house.

Of course, with Muttley around, things have reached their natural conclusion and after the initial fox and hound chase that I’ve written about which nearly ended in disaster, I had not seen them for a while.

Until last night.  On taking Muttley for his constitutional in the evening, we rounded the corner to our house which is at the end of a long, dimly lit public alleyway.  For this reason I always take a torch.  We were heading towards the beginning of the alleyway which is always very exciting to Muttley as it has a large public litter bin placed strategically at the entrance and which the foxes raid regularly – leaving a smorgasbord of delights for any dogs walking by (last week eldest son said Muttley downed a bread roll in one gulp).  Imagine my surprise when I saw a young fox standing by the bin.  I was even more surprised when I recognized its mangled leg.  As we approached cautiously, Muttley’s ears flattened to his head, and he went into the Collie Stalk position.  The young fox looked mildly interested, cocked its head to one side and sat down for a better view.  Neither youngster was going to give in, and I found myself on the end of a lead watching a battle of wills.  Muttley crawled forward, the fox looked interested.  He continued to watch.  We were a metre and a half away from one another.  No sound had been uttered.  Rather like a nervous hostess I was the first to give in and started babbling to them both, not really sure what to do.  The spell was broken and the fox scampered off into the bushes, Muttley charged forward barking and I nearly ended up in the litter bin.

As I said, it’s all about food.  Muttley has the garden, the fox has his food bin and the rabbits in the field by us, and the balance of nature is restored.  Meanwhile, who’s for salami, bean and apricot couscous served with a maraschino cherry in kirsch jus?