Good morning Foxy, I thought to myself. Nice to see you again. I kept walking toward the bridge over Eagle Creek. And there he was again, appearing from behind several houses further down. He came to the edge of the road, again looked both ways, saw no cars and nonchalantly trotted across the bridge right in the middle of the road. Beyond the bridge, he veered off through some scrub toward the bay where hopefully he would find something tasty to eat washed up on the shore.
Obviously, this is a well-traveled route and it was my pleasure that day to see him on his rounds. I might add, that it rained that night and his usually bushy tail was still sopping wet.