Caesar is much older and bigger and his tail is scraggly, but Cleopatra, with her dainty black legs and thick ruff and brush is a beautiful specimen of a red fox.  We rarely see them but know their tracks in the snow, trotting together in their nightly hunt for food.  We feel especially close to them because one winter Juliet saw them in the broad daylight foraging outdoors, about 30 feet from our front door.  This is very worrisome behavior as any fox that you see in the daylight is most likely a sick animal.  However, the more likely explanation was the winter was bitter cold that year, and there was a sheet of ice over everything.  Most of January and February hunting was nearly impossible.  So, knowing our wild friends were probably starving, for the first time we fed them, leaving cat food and butcher bones outside our house near a big rock for as long as the cold weather held.  I cannot bear to think of an animal hungry and they are good neighbors anyway, keeping down rodents and such who may be carriers of Lyme disease among other things.  They remained out of sight after that but looked healthy whenever we caught a glimpse of them early in the morning before dawn, when I leave for work and Juliet is waking up for school.  Seeing a fox became such a non event that Juliet would roll her eyes and say “the foxes again?” if I called her out of bed to see them. 

     Last night while I tearfully wrote Tom’s obituary Caesar died curled up next to the house.  I walked outside to get the local paper’s obituaries (never having written one) and disturbed something curled up next to the doorstop.  It was Caesar and he was startled and jumped into the window well next to the door.  His matted gray fur and labored respirations told me he would not be able to jump out.   I knew this was the end of our old friend. 

     Because I was all by myself I did not feel silly when I spoke out loud to comfort old Caesar. In the bitter cold I said a prayer for him and told him about “fox heaven” with fields and fields of green grass with lots of bunnies and …NO DOGS!

     It was at that moment I realized that Caesar was not just dying, he was about to “cross over” to that mysterious realm where Tom now was!  A messenger!  So, in an earnest voice I spoke to my familiar but elusive friend with a desperate plea, “Oh Caesar, please tell Tom that I love him!”  Caesar then actually raised his head and looked up at me.  His eyes were sunken in and his face was gray but I think he saw me. He then put his head back down on the leaves that had collected in the well, and did not raise it again although he was still breathing, barely.

     With Caesar three feet behind my chair, dying beyond the wall of my home, I went back inside and wrote, to let Tom's wide range of community know where he was.  Late that night, Juliet and her father came home and Juliet tearfully sang him a song and her father said Kaddish over him, the Jewish mourning prayer. Caesar had been softly crying, but now was at peace. 

     The next morning, before the snowstorm, I buried my old friend under the bird house where we would watch in the mornings and sometimes catch a glimpse of he and his mate in that bluish-grey hour, just before dawn. Before I placed his large male body in the grave, I inspected him carefully.  Caesar was very old, but otherwise healthy.  His gums were pink and clean.  His old, worn teeth were intact.  His coat was mostly gray where it had been red, but was it was groomed and thick.  His old paw pads were thick and calloused, but they were not broken.  He had lived his life as a free creature and died a noble death - helping me write the hardest essay of my life.   I snipped a lock of his soft coat and thanked God for sending me this mysterious friend. 

     The next morning snow covered the ground and we could see Cleopatra’s confused tracks circling the yard and finally finding the place where Caesar was buried.  Foxes will not hesitate to dig up whatever they can to eat, but there were no signs of that at Caesar’s grave.  We fed Cleo each night because we wanted her to stay, but we never saw her again.  Maybe next year she will return with a new mate. 

      I am not sure about reincarnation, but I do believe in heaven.  I know Tom has received my message many times.  The last conversation we had was shortly before his death.  He had told me about his vacation plans for the coming week, and I was concerned about him.  His easy reply was "Keep me in the Light, Beth"

Tom, you are and were, a shining a light to me. It has been so hard, but I have learned so much.   

Beth Leonard, March 2005

"Come; let us walk in the light of the Lord"

Isaiah, 2:5