Every year, on the last Saturday in February, my friend pulls the world together for the latest and greatest holiday, the Celebration of Life.
Food abounds. Kegs pour endlessly. Music wafts through the air. Christmas lights lead the way through the enchanting garden all the way to the abandoned train tracks that lead your mind down the overgrown trail... We contemplate where we've been, we look at where we might be going, but we always know that back down at the party we are going to celebrate the good things.
The rest of the world hasn't caught on just yet, but this year all that changed with the Rabid Fox Attack.
It all started with a whiz. One celebrater wandered into the woods, following the lights and flowers, when out of nowhere a "dog" bit him on the ankle. He soon realized, however, that no dog had a tale so bushy. Walking toward the party to warn the masses, he was bit again, and again and again.
The fox then attacked another celebrater, this time a clever guy trying to document the moment on digifilm. This time the fox was wildly slung like a wet rag attached to his foot, ripping his jeans into shreds before getting trapped under the wheelbarrow.
There it stayed, scratching at the sides, for hours. The children were playing "Run Away From the Fox". The women were all sort of forlorn, with long, worried looks on their face that the fox might be scared. And the men stood around discussing ways the fox might die.
Animal Control eventually showed up and took the fox away in a net. But it made front page news in the Tallahassee Democrat's Sunday Paper.
Now, we are all worried about our friend who might have rabies. He has to get a lot of shots.
But we will celebrate forever the year of the Rabid Fox.
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