Skip to main content

The last jam sandwich

Alpha (Left) and Omega (Right), London 2020
 

It’s how you knew breakfast time was over.
You and your sister, sitting like bookends
At the top of the garden steps.
Us, at the bottom, throwing
Chicken strip, mini-burger, liver biscuit
And then – the jam sandwich – presented.
You’d sit down, eyes thinning to a slit.
A moment of meditation before the second arrived
And Paradise fell into your mouth.

Foxes. 
Born into our garden amid a pandemic spring.
Accepting of the new world, whilst we could barely stand.

We named you, Alpha and Omega,
In respect of your wildness,
Your status in the earth.
A menace others called you.
We took a breath as you approached 
Mange-stricken, injury-ridden, motherless.
And so our routine began – chicken strip,
Mini-burger, liver biscuit and a jam sandwich
Sprinkled with magic dust to heal.

This spring, you’re all grown up.
Teenagers who know how to catch.
Playing together, risking it all on the
The trajectory of sliced bread. 
As teeth meets jam, you run with ears pinned back 
Towards your shrub where plate sized leaves 
Swish into place - a seal to this most
Sacred of moments where jam oblates
And taste awaits...

This morning, there was no time for play.
On the top step curled in a ball was Alpha.
Whilst you, Omega, were four doors up
Lying motionless on a roadside verge.
Us.
Finding you. 
Wrapping you. 
Carrying you back. 
Chicken strip, mini-burger, liver biscuit -

And the last jam sandwich.

---------

For Omega
A garden fox, whose joy of food we still miss. 
March 2020 - June 2021  

If there is a fox that you would like to heal, or you would like to support the work of Fox Charities:
SUPPORT: The Fox Project Wildlife Hospital Appeal - who provide advice for the care and management of foxes and offer a  rehabilitation service and fox ambulance service. Or the National Fox Welfare Society (NFWS) who provide free mange treatment across the UK.
HEAL: In our experience, if the fox's coat is less than 40% affected by mange, we recommend the homoeopathic mange treatment that is free from the NFWS and takes around 6 weeks to heal. Or the Fox Project's treatments for mange, injury or infection which takes 5 days to heal and is £10 per treatment. If the fox has more than 40% mange, we found it best to call either the Fox Project or the NFWS for advice. 
 

Popular posts from this blog

Revels and Rebels XIII

Dear Santa, I’m sat by the Christmas tree. The fairy lights twinkle, the baubles sparkle, and the clip-on-birds look really confused. The white dove is looking at me wondering where peace went, and the robin, having given up on Christmas, is taking a nose dive towards the floor. I understand the birds’ confusion. 2020 is the year where the world turned upside down and inside out. Bound at home, unable to hug friends and visit family, attempting disconnected living in a connected world. Which way is the North Star – who knows? We’re all a bit like Odysseus down here, stuck between a rock and a hard place. On one side you have the rock of reality eroded and twisted by politicians and media. The other side, the six headed monster of big Pharma trading health for profit and barking down contrary ideas to protect financial growth. One thing is for sure, Capitalism is not interested in paying the ransom for Freedom. You’ll be sad to learn that ‘Ho, ho, ho’ went out of the window mont...

Revels and Rebels XIV

Dear Santa, It's Epiphany. Twelfth Night. You're about to hang up your Christmas sack for the festive season and here I am writing to you with my last-minute request. I know, I'm as irritating as a Christmas Pudding that refuses to light no matter how much warm brandy you pour on it.  Soggy Christmas Pudding aside, there is a reason why this letter is late. I've been ruminating over what to wish for. And the thing is this - I still don't know what to wish for. My current plan, or hope, is that in writing to you I might write myself into my wish. The thing is this, since the pandemic began, I'm having trouble finding a way to live in the world. Working out what I must suffer, what I can change. How to navigate sorrow and joy. And how to live with the conflicts within whilst the noise of division and marginalisation rage all around. Sometimes, they become one of the same. Sounds confusing, right? And fuelling this confusion is the general level of fear we have to ...

Mushrooms

Bacteria screams down the walls. I feel myself separate, drunk on the smell of fungus. Breath as manacled as my body. A rip of velcro is amplified by the darkness. A yellow mask looms over. Injection. Hot. Suffocating. Liquid burns through my veins. Words die within me. Stillness. A seed is planted in my mind. The roots are fierce, killing my memories. I grasp after the memory of eating potted crab sandwiches with dad while our toes dangle in the sea. Gone. I can feel it inside me. I’m an echo. Not my words. Not my breath. Inseparable from it. ----------------------- Reference: Highly commended, NYC Midnight Flash Fiction international writing competition Photo by Jaël Vallée on Unsplash