Page 161 of Mountain Daddy
The sound catches me off guard, and I jump, making him jump.
And it’s all just sad and cute, andoh my god, I am currently not mentally stable enough to tend to an adorable woodland creature while maintaining any sort of dignity.
He shouts again, creeping closer.
Ready for it, instead of startling, I laugh. “You really are the cutest thing ever, aren’t you?”
I hold out my hand, palm up.
My new best friend stretches his neck, sniffing, while I focus on breathing and staying still. “See, I’m okay.”
He hobbles closer. And closer, until his bristly chin hair rubs against my fingertips.
I huff a laugh that has him hopping back. “Sorry, sorry.” I let out a real laugh this time. “I mean, I’m clearlynot okay, like, at this moment. But in the general sense of the term… I’m an okay person. I’m just dealing with a little heartbreak,” I explain. To the fox.
I reach my hand out a little farther, setting it down on the forest floor between us.
“Can I call you Buddy, or do you have another name you prefer to go by?”
He cough-shouts and takes a hop forward, clearly confirming that Buddy is acceptable.
“Okay, Buddy. Can I see your leg?”
I’d feel ridiculous about talking to a fox, but I swear he understands me.
Buddy shuffles forward, then holds his injured leg higher.
Finally, a male that listens.
The ends of the string are frayed, like he’s chewed it. But it’s still knotted around his leg, between his ankle and his elbow. Or whatever an elbow is called on a fox.
I lift my gaze to meet his yellow eyes. “I need scissors. I could probably untie those knots with enough time.” I glance at my painted nails and refuse to think about Luther. “But I’m afraid it would cause too much tugging, and I don’t want to hurt you.”
He blinks at me.
“I’m going to get up now, okay? And I need you to follow me.”
I get to my feet as slowly as I can, trying not to startle Buddy.
He backs up but doesn’t run away. And I take that as a good sign.
“Okay, come on, little dude.” I pat my side and take slow steps.
Buddy shouts again. Then follows me.
I can feel dirt and other forest items stuck to my body, but I don’t want to scare Buddy by trying to brush it off, so I leave it.
When I reach the yard, I glance back to confirm Buddy is still behind me.
He’s just a few feet away.
“Keep following me, okay?” I keep my voice soft.
His little feet are quiet in the grass.
“Now, just wait here for one second.” I hold up my hands before I hurry onto the deck, into the house, and down the hall to my bathroom.
Yanking the top drawer open, I pull out my little pair of beauty scissors, then I rush back outside.
