foxes

God and damned and curse those vile skanky bin lovin' shit-givin' garden-killin' creatures. The urban fox. 'Twas a mere 10 days ago when 2 small babies were attacked by the ghost-eyed demons of the streets, causing wounds to the vulnerable babies which left them in hospital for longer than a casual trip to casuality after a night on the tiles.
So this morning, husband having got up at sparrows fart and domestic harmony prevailing on such a sunny Monday, spirits lifted and strawberries gleaming in the light, you could hear the tinkle of bliss in our house on the hill. Cereal had been eaten with no 'but mum I'm full' 'but mum I wanted toast' 'but mum I have to go and poo' 'but mum I actually don't like rice-pops any more don't you know' 'but mum I do need to have more sugar' you get the jist. Mols packed lunch (ham and cream cheese bagel, banana fairy cake, cheese string, yoghurt 'health' drink) had been constructed, washing up done and all that remained to be done was hair and a bit of pre-school-chillaxing.
I was in the sitting room fiddling with the mop of hair (remind me to get it cut) on Lizs head as she pointlessly cut up a piece of paper into minute pieces for me to pick up off the floor after I returned from my run.
When...
From outside there was a very loud high pitched Mol-like "agh", and then a pounding of feet (more like rugby player than possible Grade 1 ballet dancer) through the kitchen and a sort of panting like some creature with not enough air in the lungs... Mol leapt in to the sitting room gulping and very pink and sort of with a crazed look in her eyes and then she burst into tears and said "fox, garden, close, ugh, on the fence, bumble bees, fox, flowers, talking to..." ? quoi?
And so to unravel this alien shpeel...
Mol had been talking to our collection of bumbles who like to congregate on my (outstanding) lupins in the morning sun. And as she talked to them (not sure what about, I'll find out, I'm interested to know where the common ground lies between a 7 year old and bumble) she heard a rustle from next door neighbours garden (tony) and she just presumed that it was Tony coming out to enjoy the morning rays (but given that he never rises from his den until after noon...) - so she turned around to say morning to our usually comatose neighbour and lo, it wasn't Tony, but scene from a horror movie, an URBAN FOX, with ghost eyes mangy fur and fangs was balancing on the fence not more than 1.5m away. Hence the scream.
Brazen fucking creature.
We had to switch on Timmy Time to calm the nerves.
I went out with my shotgun and blasted a few rounds off into the air.