So becuase I’m living in an appartment building and have no yard into which I may release Charlie when his little doggy bladder fills up, I end up walking him at strange hours of the night in all manner of weather, becuase I love him.
So tonight it’s single-digits and snowing, and while we’re walking back, I see a big gray tabby curled up with it’s back to us on the porch of one of the houses that’s not yet occupied. It doesn’t look up at us when we pass by, or when charlie doubles back and starts climbing the stairs to sniff it.
Understandably worried that someone’s pet is lose or that one of the ferals is goign to be a kitty popsicle, I hurry home, collect the cat carrier and go back to the porch to bring kitty in from the cold. Since I will probably need both hands to carry it back and there’s enough ambient light, I don’t take a flashlight.
Kitty must be very asleep becuase it doesn’t look up when I put the crate down, or when I walk up to it, but the *second* I touch just one of its little kitty fluffs, It’s head pops up with the loudest, deepest “brrp?” cat start-up noise ever.
…and I realize by the large tufted ears and buff shoulder muscles that the thing I am attempting to pick up is not an unusually large tabby.
It’s the fucking Bobcat.
Fortunately, instead of maiming me, like my idiot ass deserves, it lets out a demonic YEEEAAUGH and flings itself off the porch, fleeing into the night, and I sit there waiting for my heart to start beating again, presumably to tell it’s bobcat buddies all about it’s attempted alien abduction.
So how is everyone else’s night going?
So I used to work at a doggy daycare in Thornton (Let’s call it Camp Scam WOW) and on my way to work in the wee hours of the morning I see a grey husky just wandering out in the middle of a soon to be busy main road.
Camp Scam WOW taught us how to save wayward pets in situations where they could be hurt as long as we had our slip lead leashes on us. I was heading into work so of course I had mine.
I use my car to creep up on him and corral him into the nearby highschool parking lot.
I park, slowly get out and start calmy talking to the dog to make him calm, maybe get the husky to come to me out of curiosity. This damn dog isn’t paying attention to me at all. Weird. But it’s a husky, those cocky bastards amirite.
I get close enough to maybe lunge and get the slip lead around the dog’s neck but he’s got his snoot deep into a giant dandelion weed, like full facial in there.
He finally looks up.
The neck is far too long and my body reacts before my mind catches up. I immediately break out in tingling chilly goosebumps and stop talking. My throat closes.
The “dog"s neck is far too long and far too densely furred to be a husky. It’s eyes are that predator yellow-gold and there is no human-dog recognition in its gaze. I’m just another thing to this creature. Another squishy thing.
We stare each other down. I’m used to being rough housed by great danes and bull mastiffs. But I know taking on a coyote is not a good idea.
Thank every god above and below a fat little rabbit took a bullet for me and started running away from it’s cover just then. No husky could have ever run as fast as that mixed creature.
The bunny lived. Thanks to a fence around the football field.
I’m still afraid of the implications of a husky/coyote breed/pack forming in Colorado. Those bastards would have the perfect traits to be unstoppable.
1. Same, buddy. On more than one occasion I too have run after a “stray dog” to find out the fluffy baby is one of the local coyotes once it has the grace to pass under a streetlight.
2. Personally, I’m more worried about the Urban Cougars.
Published
thisacelovesheadcanons 