After a few seconds of foolishness that feel like an hour, the coyote turns tail and walks off into the woods.
Thank god, because I didn’t grab my firearm before I ran outside. I don’t even know if I could fire it in good conscience. I hate shooting a natural predator even more than I dislike wiener dogs or Molly and her sass bucket mouth. Pretty…soft…sass bucket mouth.
Shit.
She should really keep this annoying thing in the house in the dark of night.
I consider whether I should drive the dog over there, since walking along the property line from here to her front gate would be very inconvenient at this time of night.
Instead, I decide to see if I still have the fence jumping skills I honed back in high school in Oklahoma while running from the cops after our keggers got busted up.
I take a few steps back and make a run for it, easily clearing the fence. To be fair, it’s a split rail fence lined with chicken wire, so there’s nothing sharp for my drawers to get caught on. Ripped up more than one pair of jeans doing that trick back in the day. I scoop up the yappy dog before it gets itself into too much trouble. Immediately it stops yapping and licks my arm. As I carry it across the wide lawn, I pray I don’t step in dog business on my path to Molly’s front door.
“Good thing you’re kinda cute,” I say, not acknowledging the fact that I might mean the wiener dog or Molly or both. “But tomorrow, I’m building a privacy fence, ’cause I need sleep. And your momma’s gonna pay for half of it. You understand me?”
Chapter Three
Molly
I usually take the smaller dogs out on a leash in the middle of the night when they need to pee. Coyotes have been known to carry off small dogs, and most of these little ones can hear the coyotes off in the distance at night. Leash or no leash, the smart ones will stick to my side. But tonight, Terrence is so ornery, I decide he needs to run for a bit.
A coyote would have to get a running start and be pretty determined to hop that fence to get to one of my babies, but on the other hand, it’s not a big fence and you never know if there could be a weak spot where something could sneak out or in.
I hear Terrence making a racket over by the new neighbor’s property line.
I grab my shotgun in case I need to be intimidating. I’ve never shot a person or animal with it. Mainly I use it to scare off jackasses who drive by trying to cause trouble.
As I’m walking across the field, suddenly Terrence stops his barking.
My breath catches. This can’t be good.
I bolt ahead, but soon see the reason Terrence has stopped his noisemaking. In the light of my flashlight it becomes clear. He is being carried, like the posh little wiener dog he thinks he is, by my neighbor, Daniel, who’s tromping across my field in nothing but flannel pajama bottoms.
When they get close, he sets the dog down. And now three other dogs have awakened to join us in the middle of the wide span of buffalo grass.
“Did he get out somehow? Thank you for bringing him back. But next time, just take him inside with you and call me, I’ll come get him. I’ll give you my number.”
Daniel looks less than friendly. “No, he didn’t get out. He was barking his ass off right outside my window, so I went outside to try to get him to shut up. And I ended up chasing off a coyote who was looking at him like breakfast.”
I laugh. “That’s so sweet of you, but this is a coyote-proof fence. They can’t clear it.”
His jaw ripples. “The point is, your dog was barking. Loudly. In the middle of the night.”
I nod at him. “Yes, dogs make a great security team. They would have woken up the entire county if a predator got through the fence.”
Daniel grits out as he gestures at Terrence. “That one did a good job of waking up the entire county all on his own.”
I shrug. “Dogs bark. It’s what they do. And it’s not like I leave them outside all night long to bark indefinitely. Just a couple on the porch who enjoy sleeping outside. But if a dog wakes up to go outside to tinkle, well, sure. Yeah, they might bark at something.”
Daniel shakes his head. “So why don’t you train them to hold it overnight?”
“Terrence is old. His kidneys are less than awesome. He has to go out a lot. You know how it is with pets.”
Daniel shakes his head again. “Nope.”
“What? You’ve…never owned a dog?”
He shrugs.