Dirty foxes

Walking home along Riversdale Road I see the tall Irish bloke who’s always cleaning and painting his front yard. He’s standing in the road looking forlorn. As I get closer I can see rubbish – papers, bags, crap, clothers – strewn all over the place. “How are you?” I say. “Foxes.” he replies. “They can smell the dogshit. What a mess.” I decide to help him clear up the rubbish. It’s in front of his house and he’s very proud of his place, I know. As if reading my mind he says “I like tidiness. I hate mess like this.” I find a brown shoe. “It was a stylish one legged fox,” I say. He laughs. I find a copy of Marie Claire. “It was a stylish one legged fox who is into fashion and make up tips.” He laughs again. I see him later in the day and he waves. He is once more cleaning his front yard.