What was she thinking?

We all can be impulsive from time to time. We don’t think before speaking or can behave recklessly. I size up most situations, but sometimes it’s difficult to anticipate the reactions to our actions.

I’ll never understand my dog, Roxy. She’s a Bichon who is pint-sized at a whomping fifteen pounds of fur and energy. She’s submissive to us although she can be “independent” like most dogs.

When a dog is about Roxy’s size, she will play for hours. The kennel workers love her since she is “gregarious” and “super friendly,” much like her owner. She shies away from larger dogs.

With coyotes she gets a Wild Hair. We have a pack who frequently sniffs around our yard. It’s a part of living in Boulder County. We live in their territory. I respect them and try to stay out of their way.

Roxy doesn’t see it that way. She thinks she owns this plot of land and God help anyone or thing that trespasses.

My office is upstairs with the best views of the house. While typing yet another query letter late yesterday afternoon, Roxy sat in her usual spot up on the back of couch. She likes to keep a watchful eye from her perch.

She growled and then barked. I assumed someone walked by with a dog. I kept typing. When she flew off the couch and rocketed through the house with a frenzied howl, I knew it was trouble. That particular yap is reserved for coyotes.

I peeked out the window and there it was. A huge male coyote strutted through the yard. Either a half-breed or fat and sassy after a summer of munching rabbits, it resembled a wolf. It was nothing like the straggly coyotes I am used to seeing.

Adrenaline pumped and I bolted after her while screaming, “Roxy! Come!” The doggie door swung shut.

“Oh shit!” I said and ran as fast as I could down the steps. As my feet hit the floor, I heard her yelping. It was more like a scream. My heart clenched.

It must have her in his mouth! 

I was dusk. Guilt trickled into my gut knowing this is the coyotes’ favorite hunting time. It was a quarter moon so they start early. I should have shut her doggie door an hour ago.

I followed the sound of her high-pitched shriek to the back door where she re-entered. Thank God! For a moment I wondered if the coyote tried to scoot through after her. I found Roxy panting and barking at the back door. As I lunged to close it, she slipped outside again. She continued barking as if to say, “Neener neener neener. You can’t get me!”

Are you freakin’ kidding me? I opened the door and demanded she come inside. There was no sign of the coyote. She sulked and obeyed. I locked her doggie door.

She rip-roared through the house to my study while I caught my breath. Roxy growled and barked for another hour. It never occurred to me that she had been bit.

Later I noticed she licked her flank. She bled from four puncture wounds. The coyote had her in its mouth! How did she get away?

Roxy, being pretty agile for a seven-year-old, side-stepped  the shaggy beast’s mouth full of sharp teeth. It didn’t get a good hold of her.

I pieced together the story:

Roxy ran right up to that coyote and warned it to stay off her property. “GET OFF MY LAWN! GET OFF MY LAWN! GET OFF MY LAWN!”

It must have looked down at the puffy and white, ridiculous creature circling him. “You are the dumbest dog I’ve ever met.”

“GET OFF MY LAWN! GET OFF MY LAWN! GET OFF MY LAWN!” She raised her miniature hackles.

“Do you have any idea who I am?” asked the coyote amazed at the ignorance of this pesky creature.

“GET OFF MY LAWN! GET OFF MY LAWN! GET OFF MY LAWN!” Roxy bared her teeth with a mouth the size of a half dollar.

The coyote rolled his eyes. “I am Adolf, alpha-male of my pack.”

Oblivious to the importance of his pecking order, Roxy continued yapping. “GET OFF MY LAWN! GET OFF MY LAWN! GET OFF MY LAWN!”

The coyote yawned and then said, “You bore me and your pitchy bark is giving me a headache.”

“GET OFF MY LAWN! GET OFF MY LAWN! GET OFF MY LAWN!”

This is too easy. He snapped at her.

Roxy screamed like it took a hunk out of her side. “HE BIT ME! HE BIT ME! HE BIT ME! HE BIT ME! HE BIT ME! HE BIT ME! HE BIT ME! HE BIT ME!”

“You didn’t see that coming?” Adolf shook his mangy coat and trotted toward the scent of a rabbit hiding in the thicket.

Roxy barked all night.

Do I think she was scared? Sure she was, she even tried to weasel into our bed. I suspect that coyote has lurked around our yard the last few nights.

Do I think she will attack another coyote? Hell, yes.

The doggy door is shut until further notice.

The vet concurred with Adolf. “You have a very stupid dog,” he said while filling her prescription for antibiotics.

This might be a safer place for her. Ha!

Happy Birthday, Danny! Woohoo!

Can you believe a small dog can be delusional? Where does she get her fearlessness? Do you feel for Adolf’s sensitive ears?

Related post: Roxy. The Bravest Bichon in the West?