I took Jessie out for her “evening constitutional” after the first period of tonight’s Kings game. (“Go, Kings! GO!!”) It turned out to be more exciting than I expected.
About 99% of the time we go out into the front yard, Jessie has to be on a lead. She’s old and creaky, but given something to chase, she’s a pup again and can get curious and/or territorial. Since we often have people walking their dogs, or just walking, it’s easier for everyone involved (and our homeowner’s insurance rates) if she’s on a lead until we can see what’s around.
Normally, if the sidewalks are clear, we’ll let her off the lead to sniff, check her “pee-mail”, leave her own, find a spot to poop, check to see if there are any squirrels in the date palm, any bunnies under the bushes, and so on. She won’t take off unless something provokes her, and even at that it hasn’t happened in years.
Tonight, as we hit the sidewalk, the coast was clear and she headed toward the driveway and mailbox to pee. I reached down to unsnap the lead — at which point a very mangy, skinny, and sickly looking coyote came out from behind the car, about seven or eight feet away. I think we were both surprised to see each other.
Needless to say, I left Jessie attached to the lead and locked it down so she couldn’t take off. She still had no idea that the coyote was there since she had her head down. But as soon as she looked up, as expected, she “poofed”, let out a growl, and started to move forward. I was ready for it and stopped her and the coyote didn’t wait around, crossing the street and standing on the sidewalk over there to watch us.
For the next five minutes or so, the Jessie and the coyote kept a very close eye on one another. Jessie didn’t try to go after her again, but neither of them ever let the other out of their sight.
We see coyotes around here every now and then, but this was unusual. You almost always see them at night, never in the day. They’re way too exposed and vulnerable during the day. In addition, this critter was emaciated, really, really thin. Finally, what I had thought were patches where its fur was patchy or mangy looked more like large, open sores on its sides.
I’ve never heard of a coyote attacking an adult. They’re opportunists and bandits, but they’re cautious to the point of cowardice. They have been known to attack small dogs in people’s yards, and given a chance they’ll take out a house cat, feral or otherwise. Bunnies make a great dinner for a coyote, as would a skunk or baby raccoon. (I think one of our adult racoons, one of which is running wind sprints on the roof as I type, would kick the butt of that scrawny coyote.) But mostly they like garbage and pet food left outdoors.
I wasn’t upset or scared at any point, but given the critter’s condition, apparent injuries, and unusual activities, I was concerned that it might not be normal, possibly diseased or even rabid. That’s a level of grief I could live without.
Finally a neighbor’s sprinklers turned on and the coyote slowly backed away down the block, always keeping an eye on Jessie. Once it got to the sprinklers it started to drink from the water on the sidewalk and in the gutter. That didn’t surprise me at all, given the severe drought we’ve got going and the lack of any kind of water up in the hills away from the houses.
I did take Jessie for a short walk down the block the other way, where there are neighbors who have small dogs and small children. While a normal coyote might not attack a human adult, I thought it conceivable that a starving, diseased coyote might try taking on a toddler.
Once again, the term “urban jungle” takes on a whole new meaning. Welcome to LA, don’t pet the coyotes!
We Love The Stars Too Fondly 