So, what do you do when your husband comes in after a late evening shift at work, wakes you with a tap on the shoulder and says “don’t worry, don’t wake up, but there’s a fox in the kitchen”.
Well I would challenge anyone to go back to sleep, without going to have a peek! And yes, there was a fox in the kitchen.
To cut a long story short, many years ago on a dark rainy night my husband had driven past the fox, noticing him sat still on the side of the road, his eyes, glowing in the light from the headlamps. Stopping the car, and on closer inspection, he saw the fox was injured, so gently scooped him up in a blanket and brought him back to our little flat. And, yes there he sat in our kitchen. Bedraggled, wet, wrapped in a blanket and with some water by his side. There was nothing more that could be done until the next day.
A completely different sight met us the following morning and I wonder whether this may be what draws me to the subject to paint. He was now dry and his fur was a truly brilliant, fiery, fluffy red and he was wild, mad wild! So, with a pair of elbow length strong gloves, he was carefully taken to the nearest RSPCA centre for the medical attention that he needed. I wish I could say that there was a happy ending, but sadly his leg was broken to the extent that it was not possible to repair and the kindest thing was to put him to sleep.
I will never forget the vibrant red and wild expression of this beautiful animal and I hope my paintings do justice.