So last year the little red baby fox that we thought was so cute brought his family to eat our chickens. The death and destruction wasn’t cute, but the fox, peeking his head over our compost heap, panting excitedly for bloody chicken still was kind of adorable. What to do? Someone mean in the family suggested a gun but that wouldn’t be a fair fight and I’ve often heard that new foxes take the place of the old. You probably know where this is going, right? I found a dog on craigslist. Not just any dog but a Maremma. What’s a Maremma, you ask? It’s basically a big white dog who loves his own people, but is a bit iffy with others (especially vets who are afraid of them). Nala (Beloved in Swahili) was supposed to be an outside dog . . . but after she chased off the foxes my husband said her job was done and her reward was sleeping in our bed. This is becoming a pattern. My husband tells the rest of us that every animal must have a purpose and then he brings home a useless retired dairy goat who winked at him or something. Now we have Nala and her fur on the couch, but I will say that I think it’s a great thing to have a softy of a husband.