GOOD MORNING, GOOD AFTERNOON, GOOD DAY

I’ve still never seen Landlord in real life. “Landlord” is my official name for the fox who rules my London neighborhood. And though I’m not likely to ever see them, I feel better knowing they are there. Both males and females use poo to mark their territories, so I have no idea if the fox is male or female. Rather than using the non-pronoun of “it” as the English language does, I shall refer to them as “they.” They are a living creature after all. “It” is something not alive. I think the “it” bullshit comes from the Christianization of the language, and it offends me and every beautiful, vital creature on the earth. I don’t believe animals and plants are “units” or tools put here to specifically “serve” humanity. I don’t believe humans are the center of the universe, so I strive to change my personal language settings to give proper deference to the incredible wealth of life around me. I feel smaller, cozier, more sane and more connected to the Earth in doing so. Back to Landlord.

Landlord poos near stuff, ON stuff and around stuff in a hilarious fashion. I read an article about urban foxes in which the author talks about it being common for them to poo on shoes and kid’s toys left out in the yard. It’s kind of cat-like and pretty funny. In many cultures, fox is considered an intelligent trickster, inside and outside folklore, not unlike their close relative, the coyote. The fox is also a common psychopomp in fairytales and folktales. A psychopomp is mainly defined as a “conductor of souls,” as in, one who leads the deceased on to the next realm, but there are other definitions too. I knew psychopomps first as beings who came along in a story at an important crossroad, or at a watershed moment in a journey where the “hero” or main character needs to solve a problem or find an answer. The clever fox would know the answer, but never tell, because the fox knew the hero would never learn the lesson fully unless they figured it out themselves. The fox was not cruel though, and would give a hint, or lead the character toward the answer, not away. This is how I feel about all nature, that it points the way to the solutions every time, and it is not a fairytale, but a very real course of reasoning. You have to quiet your mind and really listen. You have to remain curious. You have to want your ancient instinct back. You have to trust your gut. It’s not magic, it just feels like it is. Consideration, curiosity and respect.

I walk a lot in London and see signs of other urban foxes all over the place. It feels like someone is leaving me notes everywhere I go, at least it amuses me to think of it that way. I see you foxes! And I am so in awe of you. Thank you, Landlord for having my back. xo

I really enjoy the affectionate little tributes that Londoners leave for their foxy neighbors.