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I hate cleaning day. What a privileged and ungrateful thing to say, and the women who come every other week are wonderful and do a fantastic job, but it’s difficult to corral two senior dogs in and out of different areas, to entertain an 18 month old with boundless energy, and then to manage his nap while a vacuum cleaner and the general cacophony of cleaning do their best to disrupt it. But along with dogs and a toddler come mess, and a respite from filth is a welcome benefit for the minor life disruption.
Yesterday was cleaning day, but unlike usual until 9pm the day went smoothly. Our family of 5 went to the farmer’s market, my wife and i took our son to the park, and then to an indoor playcenter.
Boo, a 13 year 9 month old, 9 pound yorkie has healthy organs, but poor external health — 80% hearing loss, arthritic knees that occasionally pop out, few remaining teeth, and intermittent incontinence. She just needs to quickly go out and empty the tank to prevent wetting the bed before we return home. Riley, a 14 year 6 month old mixed breed, has heart and kidney issues, but has excellent joint health and is still spry for his age. His night walk is longer and at a faster pace, so it’s quicker to take them one at a time for the night walk.
Last night I opted to take Boo first. We left our house, located in a gated community in an idyllic nearly crime free town, walked approximately 75 feet towards the cul-de-sac which has a 5 foot gate blocking a path behind, crossed the street, walked approximately 100 feet back up the street, crossed back to our side, and headed home. 10 feet from my front door, just after I took the first step up our walkway I heard a yelp from Boo who was 2-3 feet behind me. My instinct was to drop the leash — if her knee popped out of the socket again I didn’t want to exacerbate the injury by tugging, so i planned to turn around and pick her up and carry her inside.
But upon turning around I saw a coyote had her in his mouth and was backpedaling away. I started screaming and cursing and chased after them down two streets, until finally the coyote dropped her 15-20 seconds and 300-400 feet later. I scooped her up and started running back to the house, my arms covered in her blood, her small body convulsing in my arms. The coyote stalked me the entire way back while a second slightly smaller coyote looked on from further away. Every few steps I had to turn and throw a kick to keep it at bay, then resumed running until It finally gave up the chase near our house. I wasn’t carrying my phone, wallet, or key, so I had to run inside, tell my wife, grab my stuff, and rush to the car.
I frantically typed into my phone searching for 24 hour vet locations, leaving bloodied fingerprints all over the touchscreen. The vet down the road that I once visited after hours was no longer open 24 hours a day but I found a backup 5 minutes away. She was breathing lightly in my arms, I floored it down roads, ran red lights when no cars were coming, and got there as quick as I could but I felt her body exhale and become motionless just before pulling into the parking lot, the vets soon confirming there was no heartbeat.
I have a tendency to be hard on myself and look for self blame. Could I have been more vigilant? I wasn’t distracted, not even having my phone on me. The street light two houses down is dimmer than it should be, combined with some trees and cars and neither of us saw danger coming when crossing the street. Perhaps I should have insisted on her donning an anti coyote spike vest for every walk, but in 13 years of living here I have seen exactly 1 coyote while walking the dogs at night. On each side of the street, from the entrance all the way to the 5 foot fence at the cul-de-sac is a combination of house and 5-6 foot high cement wall, behind which is another house with the same. The only potential entrances for a coyote would be hopping the 5 foot fence (possible) or the entrance to the street, which has the same setup leading to a gated entry for cars. I looked both ways for cars when crossing the street, but neither me nor Boo saw anything suspicious.
I attribute her death to extreme bad luck and a confluence of physical problems from age related decline. Her hearing loss meant she didn’t sense the danger coming until he grabbed her. Her arthritic knees meant she walked along slowly enough for the coyote to catch us before we made it home. Her slow speed and reticence to walk more than necessary means I generally took the lead on walks while she followed along just behind. Logically I know this could have happened to anyone.
But none of those facts remove my feelings of culpability. There were numerous incidences in the past where I was distracted, further from home, in more dangerous areas, in a sleepwalking state in the middle of the night where nothing happened. Was I simply lucky before this and the EV of a coyote attack heretofore was higher than I thought?
The crashing wave of feelings and thoughts is unending and suffocating. Feeling like I’m no longer safe in my own community, that I need to worry about taking my son to the park for fear of him being dragged away in the same manner. If a coyote is so brazen and desperate for food to grab a dog that was 2 feet behind a human and 10 feet from a house, it could be so brazen and desperate to attack a toddler in a park during day time. Feeling like I’ve lived a sheltered, naive, and lucky existence to have avoided trauma for my first 40 years while the world is continually bathed in blood. Wondering why, despite Clotho measuring the thread of her life a reasonable length, Atropos would design such a cruel and vicious end for my best friend. Feeling from a utilitarian perspective that this was a most unnecessary incident — my goal is to protect my dog, the coyote’s goal is to procure food, my dog’s goal is to remain alive. We all lost.
It’s tempting to wax philosophical about the fragility of life and how we are brittle beings that can withstand such little amounts of punishment before our life force is extinguished, and how we never know when our end can come. Deep down everyone knows all this, but most of us forget it while living in our safe bubbles, many layers removed from danger we or anyone we know first hand rarely experience. I’m also too numb and broken from the ordeal for any novel thoughts here, and I don’t know how to disentangle myself from the images that sporadically flash back to me.
Well after midnight, hours spent shuttling between home and the vet to finish up paperwork, say goodbye to her remains, and figuring out a way to safely walk our other dog, I finally tried to sleep. But it was then I realized the sheets, pillow cases, and covers were all freshly washed. The bed no longer held her distinctive scent and I broke some more. I really fucking hate cleaning day.
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