COLUMN: The adventure of the chocolate fox
Admittedly, my roommate and I are no Holmes and Watson.
But we did solve a mystery this week.
Our case began last Friday afternoon at our pad in Chip Village. Jake “Sherlock” Bolitho and myself were engaged in a fierce game of Pig Darts (think basketball “P.I.G.” but on a dartboard).
Jake was at P.I. when I glanced out the window and caught sight of a loose dog sniffing about the courtyard.
It was a beautiful mutt. She was a cross between a German shepherd and a border collie. Her coat was entirely brown except for her white paws and a tuft of white fur at the tip of her tail.
The dog looked like a big chocolate fox. So that was what we called her.
Fox.
At first Fox was suspicious of us. A couple cold hotdogs later, we became her best friends.
Fox never barked once. She kept her head low, like she was expecting to be punished. She had no collar, but a passing neighbor named Alex told us he had seen her skulking around before.
We drove her to the Isabella Animal Control Department at 1105 S. Isabella Rd. At this point, she’d eaten six hotdogs and was getting very affectionate. Admittedly, Jake and I were getting attached too.
We started playing with name ideas, like Fawkes (Dumbledore’s phoenix or Guy Fawkes), which turned into Star Fox, then Chocolate Fox, then Silver Fox, then Anderson Cooper, then back to just Fox.
By the time we had checked her into the kennel, we were committed to adopt her ourselves. But when I went back to check on Fox the next day, they told me she’d been picked up by her owner.
For the rest of the weekend, Jake and I sulked over losing our new dog. And then on Monday, Jake looked out the window and said, “I think I’m having déjà vu.”
There was Fox in our yard again.
This time, we found the owner. Alex’s roommate told us Fox lived on the street across from us. They had been leaving the front door open, and Fox was curious to explore.
And Fox’s real name was Roxy.
So, with heavy hearts, we returned the dog we wanted so badly to the rightful owner. And returned to our dog free apartment.
“Case solved,” Jake said. “But I still wanted to keep her.”
“Elementary, Bolitho,” I said. “Elementary.”
