h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Marie-France St Nazairre parked her old Renault 20 next to the ornate gates of the George W. Brush Memorial Cemetery.

She shushed Basil as she opened the huge boot. He hated being in the wire dog cage, always had, in the fifteen years she'd had him, he'd never gotten used to being treated like a dog, poor thing.

But today, in a few short hours, (and twenty-four years - if you counted the planning) she would release him into the Nebraskan countryside.

Twenty-four years!

She remembered walking through this very graveyard as a teenager, hiding her need for a cigarette amongst anonymous tombstones, when she'd been distracted by the flowers.

Freshly laid, and so very bright amid the sea of granite and marble.

A simple crimson wreath had set her on this long road, that and the city fox she'd seen on the walk home.

Grabbing her ancient Chinon, she'd snapped away at the beast, walked back and taken a few frames of the red wreath too.

Waited patiently for the film to be developed, the post taking an awful long time to return the 6x4 glossy prints.

Disaster! 24 rectangles of blurred images. Not one remotely usable.

So, on that Thursday morning, Marie-France had left home and enrolled into the J. J. Gittins College of Animal Training, majoring in Vulpine Posturing, with a minor in Floral Arrangement and Cemetery Photography.

Having obtained her Masters,nine years later, and proudly added M. A. J. J. G. C. A. T (f. A. C. P.) to her rather funky business cards, she'd then sought out the seedy underworld of fox procurement via the Grey Web.

Nineteen hours a day, 365 for so many years, she'd eventually trained Basil to a level where he could hold a wreath in his mouth, obey the stay command, and stand still, looking into her lens, long enough for her to walk backwards to a suitable distance, hopefully not tripping over gravestones, to the perfect spot for the photo.

Today was the day!

She opened the crate and Basil jumped from the Renault, obediently sitting at her side whilst she carefully manoeuvred the delicate crimson wreath from the cavernous boot.

The odd couple walked amongst the dead, picking her spot carefully, with a well trained Master of Cemetery Photographer's eye, Marie-France posed Basil, offering a treat if he gave the correct slightly startled city fox look.

The wreath, carefully brushed with Eau de Poulet, was positioned between Basil's recently polished teeth, and Marie-France backed away.

Two minutes later, having reviewed the image on her digital screen, she was happy.

The end of nearly a quarter of a century's toil and planning, thousands of Dollars spent, her whole life put on hold, for this one single photo.

She released Basil into the wild, placed the wreath kindly on an old forgotten and unadorned plot, and set off to post her picture, for free, on the Internet.

Driving over a low stone bridge she suddenly had the idea for another image….

Norway beckoned, she'd need a real life troll for the next pic!

*weeps tears of joy*

The problem is unfortunately trolls are a lot dumber than foxes, and are fairly untrainable! Have a great day!

Beautiful.

Just seen a fox, soooo tempted!

I like foxes.

There, I've said it.

They are really cute. They're predators, but there are larger animals that prey on them. They survive, sometimes against great odds, by being elusive and quick and smart. Just the kind of animal I like -- though I'd rather not have a chicken coop that a fox could get into.