As some of you know, my husband Jon is into foxes.Â? We were driving between two of the churches today and saw one playing in the fields.Â? This was just really cool for Jon.

On the way back, the following conversation took place:

Jen: *scans the fields* I wonder where Herr Fuchs went.
Jon: He’s probably back in the hills now in his fox den, sitting on his fox davenport, drinking a beer, and watching football.
Jen: Jon, there’s no football until next week.
Jon: It’s probably a college game.Â? And he’s probably eating chicken or pheasant or whatever he’s been able to catch.Â? Then his vixen will come in and tell him to take out the garbage.Â? His response: “Honey, we’re foxes.Â? We eat garbage.”

I’m not sure what is scarier: the fact that we had this conversation or the fact that I can quote it verbatim.Â? I’m thinking the fox went to get himself a lattÃ?.