Suze Muses
The doggos and I had quite a scare this morning. Now that I write that, I might have been the only one frightened. Lula woke up an hour early so we were up and out at 4:30am. It was dark out and the sidewalk was a sea of black, blue and green garbage, composting and recycling bins. Too early for even the sanitation workers. The streetlights were still on, casting ominous shadows around the tall receptacles littering the streets. (See what I did there?) My old girl, Esmeralda has always been a walk and poop kind of canine. I follow her trail of doggie doo, picking up one log at a time. This time of the morning it is hard to see. Plus, I am wedged between a line of parked vehicles – a van, a Mini Cooper and a Lexus and two rows of very full bins. The smell is charming. Lula is on her retractable leash waiting patiently in the middle of the empty sidewalk. As I pick up the last plop and stand up to tie the bag I catch sight of a gray, mangy, unleashed dog moving at a clip in our direction. In quick succession, I think- “Someone’s dog, where are they? Oh, that is not a dog. That is a criminally thin coyote. Shit!” This coyote is headed straight for Lula who is not moving a muscle. She’s not even barking. I pull her leash to me as I leap toward her and scoop her up. That is no deterrent for the wild dog – it just keeps coming. “Do coyotes attack humans?” screeches across my brain, my mind wildly flipping through old news stories I might have read on the subject. I do not know where Esmeralda is because I don’t dare to take my eyes off of the yellow eyeballs of our stalker. Esme is not leashed nor is she barking. I use my best guttural growl, “You leave us alone. Get! Get outta here, Now!” My mouth is wrinkled up in a dog style snarl. I stamp my foot and immediately worry that is a fighting move. This coydog, as my dad used to call them, is 3 feet away. “You go. Now! NOW!!!” And then I actually growl at it in my best alpha wolf, which scratches my throat sore. But it does the trick; the coyote trots out into the empty road and off down the street with her tail between her legs. Her tail actually between her legs. Esme is frozen in place beside a black garbage bin, which is serving as camouflage for my darling Border Collie Mix. She’s looking at me with her wide brown eyes, as if to say, “You are a dog. I knew it. You alpha bitch.” Only she wouldn’t have said bitch, she is too sweet a dog. I added that. Lula tucks her head between my neck and my jacket collar. Our hearts are pounding to beat the band. “Come on girls.” We all head inside. Lula was almost a Grand Slam Breakfast. Once safely inside, I reach down to rub Esme and her heart is clanging in her chest, too. It’s only 4:40 am. I didn’t even wake the neighbors. Good Girl. Good Girl.
Wide Open Wednesday Writing Prompt ~ When was the last time you were frightened? How did you handle it? What did you do? Tell the story in resplendent detail. Let us feel your fear with you.