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The sky was that beautiful soft early morning shade of diffused blue, the air was cool, the grass was very green, so green it almost appeared artificial as I walked my dog Trixie. I looked up ahead, past the wet grass, past the robin flying by, and then I saw it—a red fox.

He looked at me. I looked at him. I felt that timeless sensation of wonder, that wishing we all have that a particular moment will last, all the while knowing it’s not going to. The fox looked at me again, blessed me and ran across the street into the woods.

Do you know that Welsh belief that if you catch a glimpse of a red fox, you are blessed with good luck? I was left breathless.  A surge of happiness came over me, and I crossed the street and peered into the woods, hoping for another glimpse. But the only things that spoke to me were the tall trees and crisp leaves that moved and whispered in the wind. Where was the fox? It was probably there, looking at me, but I would never know.

Being human, questions visited me. When would I find out what my good luck would be? How long would I have to wait?

In the meantime I had to finish my walk. As I headed up the hill, I remembered that some people believe the red fox appears to remind you to continue to pursue your goals. “I will honor that, Mr. Fox,” I whispered.

What else did he want to tell me? I will just have to wait and see.