Foxes: discuss

Just when I thought my love/hate relationship with the foxes in my communal back garden had firmly swung over to the side of hate with a liberal dash of pity (ref: Things you don't want to find when you get home: No. 37), I saw one of them limping up towards the pile of grass cuttings my neighbour had left out there. I hate to be predictable and gushy, but I couldn't help cocking my head to one side, letting out an audible 'awww' and letting my cold, Londonised, bastard-heart melt just a tenth of a centigrade.

Picture the scene as a leapt from my chair at the computer and fired up my camera to engage in the kind of shameless picture snapping that new pet owners engage in. Feel the pseudo emotional tears welling up in your eyes as you marvel at the beauty of nature in action (because at least it's alive this time). Watch as nature makes itself a little bed to lay down for a nap whilst London rages on around it. Say it with me now; 'awww, isn't he cute?'

I can still see him sleeping out there. I think I'll call him Rafa.