For the fourth or fifth time of the night, Izzy shook. Her collar and tags rattled from the living room.
She’s been doing this ever since we returned from the north — needing to go out several times in the night. Having left it to the fair and industrious Trudy to take her out the previous three or four times, this was my turn. I slouched out of bed into the living room, where Izzy was waiting next to the patio door. I could just barely make out her gray shape in the dim light that came in thru the blinds. When I reached down for the leash, her tail started wagging.
Click. I opened the patio door, and we stepped out.
She walked slowly across the patio and stepped into the grass (such as it is). And she began to walk in tight meanderings, sniffing as she went. There was a fox out there during the day. Izzy new and decided it deserved investigation.
The moon was high in the sky — just past full. The Walnut and Elm cast dark shadows on the white-lit ground. Izzy pulled at the leash, moving to the corner of the yard where the fox had some over the fence. She evidently required more evidence.
“Nope,” I said.
She pulled, but I pulled the other way, to which she acquiesced, as she always does, because she’s a good girl.
We made our way back across the lawn (such as it is), both of us casting shadows on. And we left the fox evidence behind.
That is my report.