Feb. 17, 2004 ~ Star's big adventure
It seemed like a perfectly ordinary day. Meadow and I went to turn the cows in to the back pasture, and she took off running up the mountain. That would not have been a problem under normal circumstances, but three coyotes stepped out of the woods as she headed in their direction. Coyotes are not our friends. To put it bluntly, I hate them. When we first moved here I thought they were God's creatures, too, part of nature, blah, blah, blah. But my feelings for them have changed. Partly because of the disappearance of some of our cats, partly because of catching coyotes in the act of eating a newborn calf... a calf that hours earlier had been happy and healthy and fine. Meadow is not a large dog, she weighs about 25 pounds, which is probably snack size for a coyote. Maybe just an appetizer, split between the three of them. She has this hearing problem, sometimes. If she doesn't want to come in, she pretends not to hear us call her. I called and called and yelled and bellowed, screaming at the top of my lungs, and she kept heading straight for those coyotes. She is young, and possibly not brilliant, and she might have thought they were just some nice big doggies for her to play with. But those big doggies were thinking of her as fast food, and all I could think of was having to tell Soldier Boy that I'd let his dog get eaten. I hollered louder and louder (Sorry, neighbors) and finally the coyotes went back into the woods, possibly to escape the crazy screaming woman in the pasture. They're probably telling their friends about it even now... "Watch out for that one in the purple sweatshirt, she's a loon!" At that point Meadow suddenly got her hearing back, and came running to me just as fast as her little legs could carry her.
I put her into the pen and thought surely this day would be normal from here on out. I got into the truck and headed out to a doctor's appointment some distance away. A couple of miles down the highway, I heard a funny noise, and thought it sounded like children talking, far away. Looking around, seeing nothing, I drove on. As I drove through town, I heard that noise again, only louder this time, and it sounded suspiciously like... a meow. While stopped at a traffic light I turned around and a little furry gray head popped up from the bed of the pickup. Star! Our barn cat was a stowaway. I quickly pulled into the closest parking lot and got out. Star was puffed up to about twice her usual size, wide-eyed with fear, and stiff as a board. I picked her up by the scruff of the neck, one hand under her feet (I was afraid she'd wriggle out of my grasp and I'd never see her again.) and put her into the cab of the truck with me. She proceeded to yell and complain all the way home. And really, I tried hard not to laugh, because she was so terrified and things could have ended badly, but the sight of her head and paws popping up from the bed of the truck... as long as I live, I don't think I'll ever forget that. I tried talking to her, hoping to calm her down, but she was having none of it. She just got louder and louder. Translated from the cat, I think she said, "TAKE ME HOOOOMMMMMMMMMMEEEEEE!" Which I did.
Good grief.
Surely the day would be normal now.
After depositing one very grumpy, loud puffball back at the farm, I headed out one more time, being sure to check the bed of the truck for guests. Finding none, I thought all was well. I drove for awhile and was perhaps 30 miles from the doctor's office, when a big old german shepherd ambled out onto the highway and sat down in the middle of my lane. I was able to stop, at which point the dog looked up at me in surpise. Embarrassed, he got up and trotted back across the road.
The rest of the day passed without incident, and here I am back home again, safe and sound. All the at-risk animals are still alive. There are errands I could run, but I just might have to pass. They'll keep till tomorrow.
Surely tomorrow will be normal.
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