To Save A Fox

Chapter 1 -- Last Moments

What a blessed life that I live...

You never know just how wonderful and precious your life truly is, until something takes it away from you.

How we take for granite, our laidback way of living.

Never needing to wonder if tomorrow will bring a full stomach, or if we will be warm and secure in the comfort of our dwellings. We are all technologically connected to the world, with infinite knowledge right at our fingertips. All of humanity's knowledge readily available and constantly reengineering our lives for bliss, longevity, and comfort.

Yet, even with all of this advancement and growth, there is still chaos.

Evil continues the age-long war with the forces of good. Nature striving back at man's unnatural monuments. Light in a constant tug-of-war with darkness. Life must murder life in order to live; yet the soul continues on.

"Liam Tae, can you please feed the 'red's?'" asked Cynthia as she had her hands full with containers of thawed raw chicken.

Cynthia was an amazing soul whose heart was in the right place. She was the type of person who did not have much faith in humankind, but she loved nature and all of its animals that resided within the woods. She was the type of woman who would give up her vacation just to nurse a ferret back to health.

"You got it." I reply, kindly taking the bowls of raw chicken thighs from her cluttered hands.

It has been the best ten years of my life working here at the sanctuary, caring for injured and fur-farm rescued foxes.

Like the twenty-one foxes in our care, Cynthia loved each and every one of them as if they were her own children. She cared for every one of them, played with them, spoke their language, cuddled and comforted them...she had the bite marks and scars to show her dedication and unconditional love. And like the foxes in her care, she too rescued me from my homelessness; nursed me back to health, and gave my meaningless life purpose and direction.

And like Cynthia, these foxes were now a part of my own family. They have accepted me as one of their own, they include me in their playtime, lay with me on those hot summer nights, occasionally sleep in my bed, and mark me as one of their own. I live each day for them...for it was foxes that saved my life.

Our 50-acre sanctuary in the middle of the United States' bread basket has many different types of beautiful foxes. From the very fluffy arctic fox with their iconic snow-white fur, to the majestic silver fox with its silvery coat.

There is the light-colored grey fox that can climb trees and the native swift fox that can run over 31 miles per hour. We have one majestic corsac fox that was a pet surrender that is an absolute charmer, and one of my most favorite foxes: the red fox!

My own person pet fox that I have bottle feed since it was just a tiny kit is my adorable Red Fox from Hokkaido, Japan. It was a fur-farm rescue and was the first fox that Cynthia had ever let me take care of.

Walking to the fox-yard where the red foxes resided, I was careful to secure the gate behind me. Foxes are very clever and even a dummy-latched gate can be opened easily by foxes, especially by the crafty arctic fox!

Once inside the enclosure, I play the daily game of seek and find. Looking for reddish-orange furry bodies and the tall-tell signs of foxtails wagging happily from their self-dug dens and manmade enclosures where they all are put inside for the evening.

I walk over, spying on a fox with a short white-tipped tail occasionally flickering in its dirt-dug den's entrance. "Is that a Felix Fox that I see there? Is Felix Fox in his foxhole?" I tease, watching the white-tip tail flickering ever more.