|Not the fox that we saw, but darn close!|
Margo, a dog lover, said, "Oh, he has his dog in the box." I said, "Those aren't dog ears. They're too red."
We both said, simultaneously, "Fox ears!"
"Fox in box!'
Margo and I chattered at one another, laughing. The young man stopped at a car and set the box on top, open end now facing us. He indeed had a fox in the box, albeit a mounted one.
This seemed even more ludicrous to the pair of us.
"It has a paw raised," I observed. "You could get a pair of socks, put one on that paw, and have..."
"Fox in sox!" said Margo, and we both laughed again.
We watched, all the while throwing out words that rhymed with "fox," while the young man, now joined by a young woman, grappled with how to stow the fox in the small car they were driving. The fox stood immobile on top of the car while they moved items around.
Margo noticed that the car was from out of state. We wondered how they came to Delaware to acquire a fox. Margo speculated that perhaps they had searched online for the fox and found one for sale downtown. I surmised they were passing through, had stopped to eat breakfast at our downtown diner (which is across Sandusky Street and several storefronts down), and in crossing the street to return to the car, had seen the fox in the window of an antique store a few storefronts away from where we now sat.
Whatever the story, both of the travelers were giddy with their acquisition. A passerby stopped to admire the fox and they asked him to take a picture. They beamed proudly while the fox stood rigid in the background.
As they continued their quest to fit the fox in the car, Margo mused that perhaps they were on their way to an early Thanksgiving celebration.
"Can you imagine the reception they will get when they arrive? Look, Mom! Look at what we brought!"
I watched as the young woman moved a very full garment bag from the back seat to the rear of the car.
We both wondered aloud whether the fox would be a wedding gift. "You have your stemware, the bath towels, the silver salad servers, the fox..." said Margo.
"Yes, but but no one would ever forget that wedding present," I noted.
A few minutes later, the fox was finally in the car, although the box was not. The young man walked the box down the street and returned quickly. (I knew it had come from the antique store.)
They drove off. Margo and I went back to talking about more routine matters. I made a mental note to send a copy of Fox in Sox to Ramona Dawn. A woman driving a van pulled into the space next.
She did not have a fox.