The trials of being the first vixen pilot of a 747 Jumbo! A little tale of a young female fox trying to make her grandfather proud.

Enjoy! Feedback always welcome

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The year is 1973.

The Miami Dolphins go sixteen-and-zero. George Foxman beats Joe Frazier; and a handsome devil of a fox portrays an olde-English hero on the big-screen.

He was here actually; it was Ian B. B. Redford, in the fur! A teen-cub tailthrob and idol of vixens everywhere, he was trying to avoid the publicity as he dodged through JFK with his mate and two cubs in tow. Camerafoxes were eager for him to stop and pose as he did in the film; so, of course he did! Along with scenting and pawprinting many a request for his autograph, he was busy no matter where he laid his tail.

The famous family were heading to gate-eighteen to become a part of the first passengers to fly in a Vulpic Airways Jumbo Jet.

Whilst the huge plane was prepared - tails wagging eagerly as cubs lined the windows to gaze out at the towering hulk of metal sat gleaming in its maroon and white livery – the crew of three were facing an ‘interrogation’ by the local tabloids. This wasn’t just the first time a four-engine jumbo had left the ground; it would be the first time a vixen had captained a flight.

“Yes? Near the back.” The moderator called out, pointing over the pert ears and raised paws, ready with their questions.
“Yes, thank you… Ian Lupus, New York Daily Howl… How does it feel to be the first vixen to captain a commercial airliner?”
“Uh, it feels really great to tell you the truth” Vicky leaned in to the mic, her thin muzzle cracking to another proud smile, “I just don’t want to be treated any differently to my male colleagues. I’m… I’m just one of the crew.”

There was a distinctly nervous quiet that fell over the conference room, before another of the Press got up.

“Are you concerned about the scent rating of the airline?”
“Not in the slightest!”

This had gone from being innocent curiosity at her being a vixen, to just plain-out chauvinism. There’d been comments about her tail setting off the scent detectors at the airport. Some had even made crude remarks about her ‘heat’ and how it may ‘affect proper operation of the flight’. It was water off a fox’s back at this point. It had to be. She had to have a thick pelt to be here; and she wasn’t about to let it all go.

But by now, Vicky was ready to get this thing in the air!

The only cub of Todd Redborne-Fosse, the young vixen had wanted to be a pilot for as long as she could remember. Her father had tried to dissuade her, especially since he had been a bomber
pilot in World War Two.

She’d grown up a privileged female fox, but with that conservative upbringing came… ahem… expectations that meant she was dictated to, looked down upon and expected to bear cubs and henceforth be a house-vixen. Her grandfather had a big paw in that way of thinking. Both immaculately-dressed patriarchs were checked-in on this flight and were flying first-class courtesy of the airline, especially since it was their blood and scent who was making history today! Eighty-year-old retired V.A.F Wing Commander, Sir Robin Redborne-Fosse was going to be watching his grandcub very carefully, not that he “held any allusions” as to her flying abilities!

“Why couldn’t she have joined the vixen’s auxiliary balloon corps?!” He muttered as he shuffled into his seat, his tail bending awkwardly before slipping out the comfort-slot in the back.
“Dad, they haven’t had that in nearly sixty years!”
“Still! Females in the cockpit? Whoever heard of such a thing?! Don’t know how you live with yourself, boy, allowing your only cub to fly a big unsafe hunk o’ metal like this?!”
“Dad, please! This is Vicky’s first flight, she… she needs our support for paws’ sake!”

Grumbling disagreement was all the older fox could offer in reply. He cut that short when he saw the very smart young vixen pad into the cabin before take-off. She was clad in a white sleeveless shirt with captain’s stripes across her shoulders and as a ribbon about her tail, also donning a black and gold hat, ‘specially cut for her ears.

“You guys comfy?” She leant a paw to the headrest of the empty seat in front.
“Absolutely, my dear.” Sir Robin, leaned upward, now patting her right paw with his, “And you just wag that tail of yours if you need my help.”
“Sure grandpa, thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” She rolled her eyes, nuzzling him lovingly. Paws alive he was hard to handle sometimes!
“Good girl. Now go…” He wafted his right paw, dismissing her to the cockpit, “Go on, do your duty.”

His aroma was one of only doubt and scorn. It hurt… it always had; but Vicky had to shake it off, cos’ the next voice everyone would hear was hers.

“Ladies and gentlefoxes, welcome on board the brand new jumbo jet. This is Vulpic Airways flight number one-two-nine direct to London Heathrow. I’m your captain, Victoria RedborneFosse. First Officer today is Willem d’Alsace, and flight engineer is Rex Blanc. Our flight time will be seven hours and ten minutes. Little bit of a head wind and some heavy weather reporting over Nova Scotia, but once we’re out over the Atlantic, we hope to have you in London in good time. Sit back, relax and enjoy your flight. From all the crew, welcome aboard!”

There were scents from some of the businessfoxes. Some scowls and frowns. One even beckoned a stewardess.

“Is… is the captain of the flight today really a vixen?”
“Yes sir, she is.”
Perturbed, nervous frowns were all that came back in reply. Some were incredulous.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes sir. Now, was there anything else?”

Vicky’s grandfather had started to notice the dissent. His nose may have been old, but he could smell disrespectful scent a mile away!

“Dad? Dad are you ok?” Todd caressed his father’s right shoulder, noticing his muzzle muttering and his nose going ten to the dozen.
“What? Oh yes, yes! Stop fussing, boy! Could you… blast!” He was struggling with his belt, “Could you help me get this thing on?”

And as Todd was helping the elderly fox with his seatbelt, Sir Robin’s sharp stare and scent were searing into the consciences of those who doubted his dear, sweet Vicky. They were all around him. They were everywhere.

It was time to change.

**

But in the cockpit, it was time to fly!

First Officer d’Alsace was a tall, supremely dark-furred Malinois, flying back to Belgium to take a long-deserved vacation with the wife and pups. Rex Blanc on the other paw was staying in London with Vicky, returning with her on the sister flight the following day. He was a white German Shepherd with just the most piercing blue eyes; and he’d only ever had eyes for Victoria. He loved her confidence, her humility and her sweet scent.

ATC interrupted his usual daydream.

“Speedfox one-two-niner heavy, clear for takeoff, runway thirteen-right. Wind at five.”
“Roger, bonjour! Clear for takeoff, runway thirteen-right… Speedfox vun-two-niner.”
“OK Vicky. You ready, ma petite amie?” Willem turned, his coffee-black muzzle almost one with his deep dark vision, that fathomful voice a mix of Belgian and very proper English.
“Let’s do this.”

She laid her left paw on the throttles before Willem placed his right paw on top, ready to slowly push them forward and get them going.

“V1… rotate.” Willem called it out, Vicky pulling back on the ‘stick’… and they were airborne.
“Positive rate of climb, gear up.” She didn’t look sideward, keeping her muzzle trained on the endless blue sky ahead of her, those keen green eyes shielded by her Aviators.

The radio crackled to life.

“Speedfox one-two-niner heavy, turn left, heading one-zero-zero, report Merit. Contact departure control on two-eight-eight, decimal one-five. Have a good day!”
“Speedfox vun-two-niner heav-ee, left, heading vun-zero-zero, report Mer-eet. Departure controller on two-eight-eight, decimal vun-five… merci mon ami, Speedfox vun-two-niner.”

After about an hour, Victoria, Willem and Rex were about to get some visitors… a lot of them! The flight was full of both young and old. The cubs – eager to get a pilot’s-eye view of the flight - were dressed in flared trousers that hid their growing footpaws. There were also red, blue or purple teashades for the older cubs who had let their collars hang out and their fur grow!

“My fur would never have been left to grow that long. My father would’ve smacked my tail right from my backside.” Sir Robin elbowed his son as they padded past their row on their way to the cockpit, “Look at this Todd! Are you looking?!”
“Yes dad!”
“Goodness gracious, whatever have we come to?! Cubs with untidy tail fur. Ruffled ears and…” It was only then that he smelled a scent akin only to foxes who wore flowers in their fur, “Did... did you smell that?”
“Dad, please?!” Todd turned and looked at his father askance, “This is a different age.”

Again, grumbles were all he could offer in reply, keeping a discerning and killjoy nose on all those youngsters who passed them by; but his own cub knew how to placate him!

“Whisky?”
“Ooo please!”

Once they were closing in on the turn over the sea, more and more cubs had taken their turn to visit the cockpit, along with movie star Ian Redford. The famous fox’s long luxurious tail swished past, his dashing muzzle a perfect complement to classically “well-bred” dagger ears – or at least, that was how Vicky’s grandfather put it.

“Really dad?! Really?!”
“What? Can’t I look out for my grandcub’s best interest?”
“She isn’t gonna’ date a fox who’s already married with cubs, dad!”

Robin shrugged, peeking between the seats to see the actor dapper in a Lincoln green suit, a high-collar paisley shirt and an orange-yellow tie, all the while sipping a Vulpari n’ soda. She was blushing when he came to see her on her break. Words were said, paws were shook and much nervous, humble scent was to be had.

“See? Look?! Movie star!”
“See, ya’self?! Told you her doin’ this wouldn’t be so bad.”
“Bah! As long as I get great-grandcubs one day, I’ll be happy.”

The excitement of the size and awe of the aircraft hadn’t escaped Sir Robin, the young cubs and pups passing by from having met the flightdeck crew gave him a boost like no other.

“It was so groovy!”
“Far out!”
“I want to be a pilot when I grow up.” A young vixen boasted, swishing her short, juvenile tail with glee.
“Pft, you’re a girl!”
“But… but Captain Vicky can do it!”

Seeing how much of an impression his own flesh and scent was making, Sir Robin started to scowl at those who spoke or wagged ill of his grandcub. He even turned on one starched suit smokin’ a cigar by the far window; the guy had been scoffing at the thought of a vixen in control of his commuter flight.

“Pro’lly gonna’ freak out at the smallest little cloud.” He flicked his paper petulantly, chewing on that cigar – such a slobbery ol’ rottie dawg!

That got Robin out of his seat. He’d had a tail-full of this joker!

“Excuse me.”
“Huh? What?”
“You ever heard of the Land Girls, young dog?”
“Nah! Why should I, ol’ man?”
“Ask… your… mother!” Robin waved his cane at him as he pointedly went for the ‘kill’, snarling angrily.

And he sat back down, ushered by his son

“OK dad, that’s enough!”

The drinky-drinky motion was all Todd could offer the bemused passenger, now with his newspaper in his lap and his poison dangling thickly from his nicotine-stained maw.

Back where the action was, the flight was about to take a turn out over the ocean.

“Gander ATC good eeevening. Z’is is Speedfox vun-two-niner heav-ee, reporting Neeko… seventeen-tventy-vun.” Willem took to the radio mid-way through his usual hot chocolate… made with Belgian cocoa of course!
“Roger that, Speedfox one-two-niner, good evening. Weather is now calm across the corridor, wind at fifteen. No reports of rain. Maintain three-seven-thousand, turn right, heading three-two-zero.”
“Three-seven-thousand, turning right, heading three-two-zero... Speedfox vun-two-niner. Bon soir, mon ami!”

Sir Robin had fallen asleep when the young vixen came back to see her father again, eating her dinner in the spare first-class seat opposite.

“Vicky?” Todd whispered as he leaned over the aisle, putting his right paw on her left.
“Hm?” She stopped, a mawful of chicken and offal paused in hungry motion.
“You’re doin’ great!”

She just blushed, her ears sweeping and her tail twitching nervously.

“Hey!?” Todd’s hazel-brown eyes were intent on getting his daughter’s attention.
“Hm?”
“I love you.”
“Oh dad!” She picked up her now empty tray and leant down, nuzzling him affectionately, “I have to get back.”
“Sure. See you later.” He whispered.

She smelled so much more confident. Todd’s own aroma swelled with pride.

**

After a smooth landing in a chilly Blighty, Todd and Sir Robin were the last to disembark. The elderly fox wasn’t as mobile as he used to be and struggled to his footpaws once everyone else was gone.

As her grandfather was being helped up, Victoria came back into the cabin, looking as dashing as always, her pristine red fur beautiful against the white cotton of her uniform, her tail proudly bearing her captain’s colours.

“You OK?”
“Oh, yes dear. I’m fine.” Sir Robin smiled bravely as he creaked and groaned, coming to stand up straight in the aisle; and it was then that he looked up at her, both paws reaching out to rest on her shoulders.
“Grandad? Are you…?”
“I am so proud of you, you know that?!”
“Grandad, please, this is where I want to be, I… wait, what?”

This was certainly a change of wag for Victoria. Robin had never been the very earnest of proponents of vixens’ rights; but his scent had changed. He was so much more open.

“I’ve never been prouder of my little vixy fox.” He busied himself in his left suit pocket, muttering as he ushered his grandcub to face away, “Now turn around, girl. Go on, turn around.”

It was then that he reached down, his grandcub feeling her tail held and gently squeezed. He tied a ribbon about her tail with his Vulpic Air Force colours, the one he carried on his tail over Germany in bombing raids.

“There.” He creaked to stand back up, “I salute you, Captain Fosse.”

Vicky turned and looked at her new ‘adornment’ as Sir Robin stood to attention and saluted her, his grandcub returning the respect.

“Now come along, Captain.” He took her by the paw, and positively dragged her along the aisle towards the exit, “They’re serving Vulpic whisky at the reunion and I don’t wanna’ miss out! You can tell me all about the flight there.”

But it wasn’t long before he hesitated.

“Actually… hold it! Halt!” An inimitable military command was made, and he stopped stock still.
“You uh…” He turned to his grandcub, his tail curving inward in embarrassment, “Can… can I look at the cockpit before I go?’”

Her tail wagged when she smelled how sincere he was. That was certainly a change!

“Sure! Absolutely you can!”

Vicky helped him to the cockpit, her father looking on happily as Robin was held in astonishment by the automation and complexity. He was warmly shaking paws with the crew, those “bunch o’ whipper-snapper young ‘uns” he’d so casually put-down about seven hours prior. It was an awesome sight to witness.

Todd adjusted his jacket over his right paw and allowed his tail to wag harder than it had done in a long while.

“Atta’ girl!”

***