A CLOSE ENCOUNTER OF THE CANINE KIND


I didn't want to leave my warm house and go for our daily walk on a frigid, windy day. The temperature was hovering around 34 degrees when Paddy, a docile 18-pound golden doodle, and I headed out the door. If anyone spied on me during our walk, they probably thought they saw the abominable red snowman. I chose a coat I wore six years ago during a trip to Antarctica. I never dreamed I'd wear it again.

We like to walk the hills near the Horseshoe Bay airport. There are few houses on the airport side where we walk and lots of empty ranchland just beyond a long, broken barbed wire fence. As we strolled down a hill, we spotted a small herd of deer racing along an almost dried-out creek. Paddy suddenly seemed more alert than usual. I figured he was distracted by the sight and sound of running deer.

I didn't have to wonder long about Paddy's behavior before I spotted what I thought was a mountain lion, then two mountain lions. As the animals got closer, I realized they were coyotes. The coyotes were much bigger than the ones I would occasionally see in the canyons surrounding my hometown of Phillips in the Texas Panhandle. Not long ago, I hiked many miles in the Cascade Mountains. Hikers were repeatedly warned to make themselves bigger while screaming should they encounter bears, coyotes, or mountain lions. When Paddy and I walked the mountain trails, I was hyper-vigilant about the possibility of trouble. Another valuable lesson I learned was never to run away or climb a tree, as bears and mountain lions are more adept at running and climbing than humans.

Lacking good judgment for a minute, I took a picture of the coyotes. I'm one of those oblivious people who take selfies from the cliff's edge before falling off. One of the coyotes ran off after a few seconds while the other stood transfixed and staring at us. He probably thought Paddy would be easier to attack than a deer. What he didn't realize was my instinct to fiercely protect Paddy. As the coyote started making a menacing move toward us, I yelled, "Get away! Go on! GET OUT OF HERE!" After what seemed like forever but were mere minutes, the coyote heeded my commands and ran in the other direction.

Another small herd of deer was heading in the same direction as the coyotes. I wanted to save them from their inevitable destiny, but I knew it was a ridiculous sentiment. Paddy and I scampered back up the hill from which we came. When one is wearing a multi-layered coat made for Antarctica and is closer to age 70 than she'd like to admit, scampering may be an exaggeration. Paddy wanted to relieve himself on the bluebonnets, but I wouldn't let him. We were not stopping. 

We had a few hills to climb before we started our descent toward home. As we crested the last hill, two large dogs came barreling out of their front yard heading for Paddy. Leash laws mean nothing to some people. The raised hackles on one of the dogs' backs concerned me, but his wagging tail relieved much of my fear. I kept screaming for the owner to come out of his home because his dog was not allowing us to proceed away from him, and Paddy either wanted to play or was defending himself. My day had been too eventful to figure it out. Finally, I yelled loud enough that the owner came out of his house to retrieve his dogs while faintly apologizing. I considered telling the owner of the dogs that there were coyotes nearby but decided we'd have a discussion on another day when I wasn't quite as upset.

We made it home unscathed, and I built a roaring fire in the fireplace, feeling grateful that Paddy and I were free from harm. I will be carrying an 8 iron that I abhor on future walks. My accuracy with the club and a golf ball could be better, but my encounter with a coyote will be more accurate. I may have to rename that dreadful 8 iron the "coyote-slayer!"


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