Chapter Three: Foxey and the Animal Control Officer

William Hunter Clayton grew up with a fishing pole in his playpen. His parents would set-up his Graco on the lake’s edge and place a fishing pole in his hands. There he fished, leaning and hanging his arms over the nylon wall. As a teenager, on Will’s summer vacations, it was not unheard of that he would be released after breakfast and not be seen until dinner; hunting, fishing and exploring the day away. I knew a scuba diver who was so at home beneath the waves that her heart rate slowed down during the dive. In the same way, Will is at ease in the wilderness.

Able to chase his dreams after his college education, it was no surprise to his parents when he announced that he was moving to Bridgeport, a small town surrounded by world class fishing and hunting opportunities. To support his outdoor habits he found a county position working as an Animal Control Officer. When he is not working for Animal Control he is in his natural habitat on the Bridgeport Reservoir guiding fishermen.

Will stands about 6 feet tall. Underneath his mossy oak baseball cap is short brown hair that curls like a duck tail in the back. His large gray blue eyes on his round boyish face light up when he talks about fishing and hunting adventures. On his left arm from his elbow to the knife of his hand is a roman numeral tattooed every inch that Will uses to measure the length of his catch.

When working for the county, he trades his Patagonia waders and mossy oak hat for a navy blue Animal Control uniform. Living in Bridgeport, and serving all of Mono County, Will is called to deal with a variety of animals such as raccoons, ferrets, rattlesnakes, bobcats, mountain lions, and bears. Even though it is a sparsely populated land, frequently he is called to rescue and house abandoned pets. Responding to a call for a feral dog that was living under a trailer on a cattle ranch, the animal control officers figured it would be a routine pick-up. Suspicious of the blueman crew, only after several weeks of patient trapping was the canine captured. Caged, she was transported to the Bridgeport shelter where she began her rehabilitation and re-entry to domesticated life. 

After her fox-like facial characteristics, she became known as Fox. Will inspected the wild, yet timid creature and discovered  an overcrowded city of ticks latched to her  body. A quill of foxtails was pinned to her haunches. Will carefully began the tedious process of  gently removing the ticks and foxtails one by one. After a while of picking and prodding, he decided to give the little dog a break, thinking that she had experienced enough traumas for one day. The following day he picked up where he left off, cleaning her body of parasites and debris. After a bath, Fox’s tan short hair coat was revealed beneath the layers of sediment.  After three days of avoiding proximity to the man that had painstakingly freed her from the blood sucking parasites, Fox decided to forgive Will. 

Will scheduled Fox for a visit to the veterinarian for a routine physical. The veterinarian glanced  at Fox and said, “Now that’s an interesting dog you have there.” The vet wrote her up as a "Basenji mix" but admitted he really was not sure what she was.

Domesticated animals that have been housed at the shelter for ten days without being claimed are transferred to the South County Animal Shelter near Mammoth Lakes. On Fox's tenth day, Will paid more attention to her than usual. Taking more time to rough house with her, and to scratch her head a little longer. Will had grown attached to the feisty, playful, little dog. He enjoyed watching Fox bound like a deer around the yard and then take off like a jack rabbit. He had never seen a dog her size run that fast. 

Like the other abandoned pets, Fox was loaded up in an individual crate for the long drive. As Will and the discarded misfits drew closer to the Mammoth shelter, the more disappointed he became in having to transfer Fox to her new housing. Pulling up to the Animal Shelter, one-by-one Will led the rescued animals to their new pens, except for Fox. Instead, on the ride back, Fox sat in the front seat to enjoy the view, the air streaming through the vents, and the occasional scratch on the head. Will felt happier and so did Fox.
However, Will already owned a dog, so he didn’t think it was right to take Fox in. Ambling down the road in his county owned truck, Will contemplated who would be a good match for Fox. Taking into consideration Fox’s size, her natural speed and endurance, the perfect match came to mind.

Will with his catch on the East Walker River

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