Chuckle #408 | June 9th, 2010
A Dingo Ate My Baby
I secretly wish that my neighbor’s dogs will be eaten by coyotes. All five of them. I am not proud of feeling this way. This sentiment does not sit well with my Judeo-Christian upbringing. But you don’t know these dogs.
These are purse-size dogs. I think the neighbors had two when they moved in, but quickly accumulated more. I can’t see into their backyard very well from mine, but from what I can glimpse, the dogs appear to be a mixture of Toy Poodle, Bichon Frise, and Yorkies. It’s basically a kennel for obnoxious little purebreds.
These dogs are regularly placed in the backyard in a low playpen while the owners stay inside with their Bose Acoustic Noise-Dampening headphones. The dogs whine, cry, and complain. They are like colicky babies. No wonder my neighbors banish their pets to the backyard (where the rest of us can enjoy the cacophony.)
Unfortunately, the yapping of the tiny dogs makes my dog bark. My awesomely well behaved dog, who used to only bark once a day at a squirrel, will now stand in the corner of my backyard and bray endlessly at the 5 annoying dogs. If he’s hoping, as I am, that it will shut them up, it’s not working.
Now I have to yell at my dog so he doesn’t annoy my other neighbors. It’s just not fair.
Yesterday I got news that a coyote was spotted roaming our street. I immediately had Evil Thoughts. These Evil Thoughts involved a 5 course meal plucked by a hungry predator from a playpen full of annoying little designer dogs. The backyard could become a peaceful sanctuary, my personal Eden, once again. Or so the devil whispered seductively in my ear.
Hey, don’t condemn me just for wishful thinking. No prosecutor could convict. If you think about it from the coyote’s perspective, we are on their territory. The poor coyote is simply trying to survive in a world taken over by us humans without regard for the species we displace. If a coyote is presented with the “special of the day”, tastefully arranged and trapped in a pen, can you really expect him to chase a squirrel instead?
My thoughts exactly.
In fact, if you think about this for very long, like I did, you find yourself facing something of a moral dilemma. If you don’t agree, just take a look at some of those oil encrusted bird photos from the BP spill, and think about what we’ve done. I guarantee that you’ll start to feel sorry for the coyote. Guilty even. Responsible.
Yet, on “coyote day”, when I heard the neighbor dogs start to cry and wail, while mine went especially berserk, I hesitated only briefly before I dashed outside. Honestly. I grabbed a shovel as a weapon and leaped into the neighbor’s yard, ready to defend the little beasts.
The prix fixe menu of the day looked up at me dumbly, finally shocked into silence. There was no coyote, there was no threat. The dogs were just being especially whiny. At that point I could have wacked them with the shovel myself.
So in the end, years of religious school training and perfect attendance had the desired effect. I acted to protect the weak over the strong. I chose the interests of my species over another. Good triumphed over evil. Or did it? For some reason, I don’t feel quite right.
Next time I’m giving the coyote dibs. It’s only fair.
