Felicity used to be nice. Calm and relaxed, some said she lived in her own wee world. Sometimes that World revolved around her. It was fantastic.
Two bairns and one Charlie-Boy later, her life had become one situation after another. Felicity was minding her own business one afternoon, having earlier that day watched, with sheer mummy pride, as her eldest graduated from nursery. A practice adopted from the Land of the Free, ensuring every child will graduate at least once in their lifetime. It was beautiful. Speeches were read, balloons released and parents were bursting with pride, and Felicity was among them.
On a high from celebrating her son’s achievement, that being, that he was a certified responsible citizen ready to enter the perils of primary one, Felicity was reminded of her own school’s motto, Ad Majora Natus Sum, I am Born for Greater Things. She was. They were just coming a little later than expected. Patience is a virtue and she was the most virtuous of creatures. Success, just around the corner.
But before greatness there had to be some normality. Frequenting the park was a daily chore for Felicity. Her husband’s dog, not hers, would be accompanying her. Gone are the days of going to any park, there are things to consider, manage the situation. Thinking on the ball, Felicity had chosen a hidden gem behind the houses in middle-class suburbia, not the type of park you would expect a brawl in.
Charlie-Boy needed a walk and the other, and the responsibility passed to Ms Fox as his owner was lodged on the lavatory, suffering from the latest bacterial bug picked up from the natives.
As the children caught up with some of their friends, Charlie-Boy ran free. It was idyllic. A wide open space with panoramic views. The children were dancing in circles; time slowed down.
Felicity joined some mummies on their picnic and they were all smug in the knowledge that they had discovered a paradise in the jungle, whilst the rest of the neighbourhood ventured down to the Rookie. A place where screeching children can be heard and swarms of them huddle round the chutes, it’s like handbags at dawn. Since being propelled into motherhood, Felicity had got to know every pathway, every park and every free piece of land to let her foxes run wild.
Charlie was off exploring, and his keeper, her youngest, was joining him. Ignoring dear Felicity’s calls to return to Camp, she hurried after him, leaving the comfort of the picnic and her new found acquaintances.
Two hundred yards in front of her, Felicity gently jogged towards Fox II, before breaking into a sprint, panting as she caught up with her wicked three-year old. Felicity out of earshot of her audience, scolded her son for doing the unthinkable, that is “going where I can’t see you.”
Just then, in the distance she heard the cries of a Terrier.
“Get your dog on a f*** leash!” Screamed the Hyena.
Running with her mini-Fox, Felicity went to rescue Charlie-Boy from the barking, ranting, raving Terrier who had set upon her boy.
As she got closer, Felicity could see her Black Beauty mounting a reluctant Snow White, and a furious owner spinning round and round in the tangled love nest.
Snow White must have given off a scent because Charlie-Boy’s really a good dog. Placid, friendly, not a humper.
But you’ve got to admire his taste. Snow White was the snowiest, fluffiest, whitest vision, better cared for than any child. No doubt back from her shampoo and set, pedicure and manicure – just as you’d expect in these times of austerity.
Felicity meanwhile was trying her damndest to reason with Charlie-boy to see the error of his courting ways and to climb down at once from the Virgin Queen.
Standing back, Felicity bellowed at Black Beauty, safe at a distance as she didn’t want to come between the situation at hand, and wary that the Terrier might bite.
Finally, Charlie-boy, a disappointed suitor, obeyed Felicity’s cries but not before trying one last attempt to woo his Queen.
A relieved Felicity apologised, profusely.
But the attack was not over.
Shamed by dear Charlie-Boy’s Italian temperament, The Hound turned her rage on The Fox.
“But it’s a park, and he’s a good dog, he’s never done this before. Never.”
Sorry fell on deaf ears, and Felicity wasn’t going to get off that easily as the Hound set upon her.
As everything was a to do in Felicity’s life, she was ready to handle her latest to do in the park.
Watched by an audience of fellow mummies, Felicity felt the eyes of the world descend.
“I’ll walk away”, scurrying to her car.
And she did. She threw a naughty and over excited Charlie-Boy into the boot.
Round one to the Hound. Felicity had no defence. Charlie-Boy had tried to get his wicked way with Snow White and deliver his poison apple.
Round two commenced.
When approaching your opponent, it’s always good to know what you’re up against. And what this Hound had failed to gather as she ranted away, was she was taking on a sleep deprived warrior. You see, Felicity fought battles every day. She wrestled with the shopping trolley, dodged bullets from her bosses, fought battles at the fences with the neighbours, living life on the edge, Felicity never quite knew where her next battle was coming from.
“You’re not a local.”
Let it go!…Have you seen my Council Tax, and it’s merely a Den? Felicity thought.
Her opponent’s dulcet tones were giving away her lack of breeding, but any response had to be measured. After all, Felicity had her audience to think about.
“Get your dog on a leash and your children.” The Hound harped on.
Like a dog to a bone, Felicity turned. This cunning Fox always gets its Hound.
Black Beauty’s actions were a sticky point but Foxes protect their cubs.
“Sometimes you get horrible people in life, and you’re one of them.” She purported.
And now for the crippling blow, deep breath, “You are a Ned.”
The Hound had been taken out with one sweeping blow.
Turning on her heel, the Fox collected her cubs and scuttled back to her Den. The Hound, ignorant that she had just been Foxed.
Some people fight wars, some fight disease, others fight in parks, and all the while, Charlie-Boy roams free looking for his Nat King Cole.
ps. A special thanks to the witty comments by some of my dear friends, you know who you are!