Last Night in My Garden

This isn’t much of a story.

I was standing in my garden last night. It was dark and the damp, distilling air was drawing, pooling in on on every fibrous, soily, frondy, leafy, and metal surface. Light from my french window cut up the shadow. I stood in both zones, talking on the phone, because it’s the only place I get reception. A blur in the shadow dashed into the light. Stealthy and textured. Eyes. Two tails. One worm-like, flopped at the front, gripped in a mouth; the other big and brushing at the back. A little pink claw-like paw too, hanging from the mouth. A rat in a fox. Being carried into the light.

I saw a fox with a rat in its mouth. It tried to come into my house.