I saw it again yesterday: the fox that follows me everywhere. This time, it sat at the back door of my house, sadly gazing on into the distance before it. The time before that, it followed me to class; just the two of us, alone in the snow. Every day for about a year, I saw it. This small creature, starving and sad, represented something in my life, yet I could not figure out what. Spirit, wisdom, change? I may never know. Today, I saw it as I drove home. In the middle of the three lane highway, the blood of the fox glimmered against the black asphalt. I froze, I screamed, and I cried. Never ever has I tried to reach out to this animal, never gave it a name, yet I felt the strongest connection to it. But now, a large part of me has gone missing with the death of the fox. I wondered, does it have a family waiting for it at home, or is it alone, without a loving hand as I am? Where do I go from here? What does it mean?