“BLAM!” The blast from the hunting rifle scorched through the air hitting its mark. Chey the faithful black haired spaniel rushed forth to retrieve the duck for his master as it plummeted from the sky. Chey, now in the prime years of his life was an experienced retriever and knew the in and outs of the job like the back of his paw. No rustle in the bush ever distracted him, and he never sniffed butts with the other dogs, he was soley about the hunt.
The scent of fresh duck blood was getting stronger meaning that Chey was closer to his mark. His vision narrow, he failed to see the fox dashing across the trees to his right and the two collided fiercely. Chey’s floppy ears bounced to and fro as he shakes the cob webs out of his head, trying to regain his focus. Looking over to the object that caused him to fall, Chey saw a slender, golden furred, fox already on her paws, starring right back at him.
The fox speaks first telling Chey she wanted to play with him. Chey never seeing the fox before in his life was confused and taken back. He didn’t know how to respond so he simply asked “why me.” “Because I like you,” replied the fox. “But you can’t like me. You don’t know me. You’ve never even seen me before,” retorted Chey. “I’ve seen you plenty of times,” giggled the fox. “Every Friday you come to these words with your hairless ape and bring ducks to him. I know everything about you, the sound of your bark, the way you run, how your fur coils up into little curls. I like you…and I want you.”
Chey tried to respond but made the mistake of looking at the fox in the eyes and became captivated by her beauty. A falling acorn smacking him in the noggin was enough to snap him out of his daze. “Y-you’re crazy,” stammered Chey and he ran away from the fox and back to his duck. Chey exhaled a sigh of relief to be rid of the crazy fox and quickly found his mark. Chey barked loudly into the air as the fox snuck up from behind and brushed herself on him.
“What are you doing here? I thought I got rid out you,” barked Chey. “You could never get rid of me silly, laughed the fox.” ‘Well you better get outta here. My masters gonna be here soon and I don’t have time for your games.” “I’ll leave but you have to give me some of your meat first,” ultimatum-ed the fox. Chey quickly grabbed the duck with his muzzle. “Thiff meafft iff ffor ffy maffster,” exclaimed Chey through a mouthful of flesh and feathers. “No it’s for me,” challenged the fox as she grabbed the duck with her snout. Chey and the fox played tug of war with the duck but their skills were too evenly matched for either one to get a decisive upper hand. Finally, with a stroke of luck, Chey gave on last yank and sent the fox sprawling backwards.
Triumphant, Chey stood proudly and said “That’s it. I won. Now get outta here.” “It’s not over yet,” yipped the fox. Just then three more foxes jumped from the bushes and lined up behind the Missus. The pack quickly circled Chey, blocking off all escape routes. Chey bravely stands his ground as the pack rush in and rough him up. Chey is trembling on his last legs when he hears the familair voice of his master calling his name. Chey barks back and the man’s footsteps rumble the ground as he approaches. “Drats! You got lucky. Well played jerk. But don’t think this is over. You better watch your back,” yipped the Missus as she and her pack dissapeared into the trees seconds before the man arrived to the scene.
“Wowwie, that duck musta put up a helluva fight, huh Chey, remarked the man as he looks at Chey’s tussled state. Chey proudly trots up to the man with the duck in his muzzle and drops it in front of him. Lowering his head, he expects a pat on the neck for a job well done but instead gets a heavy whack. “Bad dog Chey. You know you ain’t supposed to eat the game. What’s gotten into you?” lectured the man. Chey looks at the duck to see a dark red gap where a chunk of meat is missing. Just then, the Missus sticks her head out of the bushes, smiles, and scarfs down the chunk of meat before disappearing into the woods again.