52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks - Week 18 - This week’s theme is ”Pets”
I would like to retell the story that my Aunt Karen had published in A Living History of Northwest Missouri Lye Soap and Sad Irons. The Little Fox Named Suzie, by Karen Jones.
In the mid to late 1950’s, my father Francis Jones was recruited by my Uncle Ora Jones to rid his farm of a marauding red fox. The fox had relentlessly visited my uncle’s hen house several t and had killed hens, which were essential to the farm’s weekly egg sales. The two determined men lay in wait one night and managed to eliminate the fox.
Upon inspection of their prized kill, the men discovered that the fox was a nursing mother. They back tracked the fox in the snow and found her den of newborns. Not wanting to kill helpless animals, they retrieved and distributed the small balls of fur among various families. My mother, Edna Jones, was not impressed with my father’s sympathy for the little fur ball and made it clear that the responsibility of saving the fox was going to be a family affair. A box with old towels was placed behind the fuel oil stove and our inside dog Trixie immediately adopted the fox which had by that time been named Suzie.
Doll bottles were located, and raw milk heated to ensure Suzie’s survival. With my mother’s devotion to middle of the night feedings and Trixie’s warmth Suzie survived to be a healthy animal with all the comforts of a loving family. Suzie quickly learned that she could jump high, run fast, and avoid the wrath of my mother by hiding under the claw bathtub. Suzie’s determination to get on the kitchen table, lick the fresh butter, and hide loose items was her undoing. The battle of wills between my mother and Suzie provided hours of entertainment for the family and my father would excuse Suzie’s antics as being “a natural thing for a wild animal.” I don’t remember exactly what Suzie did to provoke my mother, but the fox was unceremoniously banished to the yard where she befriended our outdoor dog Duke, a black cocker spaniel.
Due taught Suzie how to chase cars, patrol the garden for rabbits, and sniff out moles and mice. The two animals were always together ad when Suzie dug herself a den under the snowball bush Duke would sleep on top of it. As Suzie matured, she would venture out and would disappear for days at a time. Her visits home became fewer and then she began to visit only during the night. She would scratch on my parent’s bedroom window, accept a bowl of milk with bread, and leave before daylight. Her visits eventually stopped, and my father reluctantly cleaned out and filled in her den. The den was full of odd toys, socks, clothes pens, hair rollers, and candy wrappers. Duke continued to sleep under the bush as if he was waiting for her return. Our two-story home on the edge of Skidmore, Missouri held many happy memories of our two dogs and that little red fox named Suzie.
Taken from Lye Soap and Sad Irons, edited by Karen Garvey, published by Hometown Memories, LLC 2013, pages 29-30, authored by Karen Jones.
