FAQ: Is that a fox!?

When I'm out and about with my sidekick, Penelope, people often ask if she's a fox. By often, I mean at least once a day. Yes, I am that fabulously eccentric gal who keeps a tame fox in her Manhattan apartment. How did that come to be? Read on…

[image error]After one very, very late night at a fabulous party with Princes and celebrities that raged into the wee hours of the dawn, I found myself walking through central park a la Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffanies (You know, gown, heels, massive sunglasses at sunrise). I risked all sorts of rogues and scoundrels and such.

I heard a little mewling sort cry and looked down to see a sweet little injured baby fox limping about in the grass, which glistened with fresh dew. I wrapped the poor, fuzzy little poppet in my cashmere shawl, hailed a cab, and took her back to my sprawling apartment with stunning central park views.  As little the darling little fox regained her strength and health she was tamed in the process.

In order to get past the coop board's absurd "no wild animals in the building" rule, I tell everyone that she is a dog. A Shiba Inu, in fact.