We called her our "alien dog". She came into our lives during a visit to the Colorado Humane Society and all they knew about her was that she came from Roswell, New Mexico. Although the purpose of our visit to the shelter that day was only to take a look at the facility (I was thinking about putting together a charitable event to benefit the organization), Foxy's adorable "look" and sweet demeanor earned her a place in the Kyle zoo. The above picture doesn't do her justice; unfortunately, it was taken late in her life - when cataracts had robbed her of sight. Foxy was a diminutive creature, barely weighing ten pounds in the end, but had a beautiful, thick coat that included a big patch of brown on her back end, which earned her another nickname of "brown-bottomed fox".
Foxy was truly an odd dog. Even though she always displayed the wonderful canine traits of loyalty and companionship, and was always ready with a "smile" and a wagging tail, it was only late in her life that she learned to "play". I suppose she learned it from watching our other "rescue dogs", Bandit and Lucy, toss and tumble. What a pleasant surprise it was to witness her occasional frolicsome nature in the last few years. Sometimes it seemed that all four feet would leave the ground at once as she displayed excitement about "doggie food time".
Our "alien dog" also thought she was "alpha dog" and would readily reprimand Lucy if she thought she was out of line. The "reprimand" took the form of Foxy putting one of her front legs on Lucy's neck, as if to say "settle down, that's enough". It was sad to see, in the last few years, Lucy vying for the alpha role - muscling her way in to be first for affection, stealing food, etc...weighing almost three times as much and, perhaps, almost six years Foxy's junior - it was a clear picture of survival of the fittest.
Perhaps one of our favorite memories of Foxy's life happened at our ranch, aptly named "Rocky Top", in Aguilar, Colorado. One afternoon, my sons and I set off to explore other property. We walked down our "personal mountain", equipped with walkie talkies and accompanied by Foxy, who loved the ranch. Rick, my husband, had decided to stay behind to do some work. (Looking back, this was a brave - if not foolish - expedition as I was not equipped with a firearm, had two young sons, and this area was known for bear and mountain lions.) Probably about 30 minutes into exploring rough terrain Foxy was nowhere to be seen. After no response to our frantically calling out here name, we further panicked, fearing that she had become a "snack" for a hungry predator. Near hysterics, I ordered the boys to follow me back down the mountain "on the double". As we made our way down, I was hyper aware of our surroundings, afraid there might be a mountain lion with a whetted appetite lurking in the shadows. As soon as we were in range, I contacted Rick to let him know we had "lost" Foxy...only to be told that she was right there by his side...on Rocky Top. You see, Foxy was truly "Rick's dog" - his "heartbeat at his feet" in the earlier years...and, apparently, not seeing the need for any prolonged separation, she had fearlessly found her way back to her person.
Foxy left our world last night. She died in our arms, hopefully feeling our love and appreciation for having shared her life with us. I like to imagine that she can see and hear again, that she was greeted by the souls of those we loved and lost before her. I'm glad we got to say our goodbyes. So is my son Keegan, who raced to the vet's office for that purpose. Foxy's heart had already stopped beating, but, oddly, it started again after Keegan touched her. Through his tears, his last words to her were "go back to Rocky Top Foxy...I love you."
