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Foxy

This is Foxy:

Foxy

Photo courtesy of Sebastian Budderhor

He was given to me by my brother and his wife. They found Foxy on a ghost hunt one night, but they didn’t take him home. Ty wanted to, he really did. Foxy was beautiful, despite the fact that something had been eating him, but my brother couldn’t justify bringing him home. After all, what are you going to do with somebody’s discarded, half-chewed taxidermy fox? Not a whole lot. So my brother attempted to satisfy his desire to bring the thing home with a few photographs, and he left the fox alone.

Two months passed and Ty couldn’t get Foxy out of his head. He finally decided to drive all the way back to the haunted site to retrieve the fox, only to discover that his face had been entirely eaten away, leaving nothing but bare skull.

Foxy After

Photo courtesy of Sebastian Budderhor

My brother is the kind of guy who understands that even old faceless taxidermy foxes need love, so he brought the thing home and now he (Foxy, not my brother) lives happily ever after with the rest of my beautiful dead things.

One day, if I can ever take a good enough photo of it, I’ll show you the mummified mice that were my Christmas gift from Ty last year. He set them up in a diorama of heaven’s pearly gates and I swear to Goldfish if that wasn’t one of the best gifts I’ve ever been given in my entire life I don’t know what is. I love those mouse mummies almost as much as I love Valentine.  Maybe a little bit more. (Don’t tell her.)

P.S. I just found out that you can buy dried baby llama‘s in La Paz. I’m DYING. Apparently, if you bury a dried baby llama under the cornerstone of your home you will have good luck. We don’t have a cornerstone, but we do have a fireplace and that can totally count, yes? If I can bring home a dried baby llama for my mantle, that will make carrying around my poopy toilet paper for three weeks totally worthwhile.