In like a lion; out, apparently, like a coyote....

The mercury rose at midweek. Much like a zombie responding to BRAINNNNNNs, actual human beings began rising out of hibernation, being seen in public, out of doors and not in parkas, for the first time in months.  Pepper paid attention. Lots of it. By the end of the week, we were both getting sick of her barky-barky-barking at all of them, any of them, eventually none of them appearing to her from outside our living room window.  We began barking back at her to SHADDAP, and it seems to have gotten through to her.  She really doesn't take well to anything other than outright adoration- as an experience Thursday night proved.

I came home in a lovely mood- the Mets had just won their Opening Day game, as they do almost every year- but the cats, of course, cared no-whitters about that:  BFD, where's our fud?  There followed, in about 10 seconds, the following sequence of events:

Daddy: inadvertently steps on EVIL CAT.

EC: lets out a yowl picked up on seismographs at UB several miles away.

PEPPER: scared by yowl, darts under decorative birdcage between living and dining rooms, shaking like a leaf.

GENERALLY GOOD CAT, to this moment uninvolved in the action: runs over to PEPPER and starts putting a whoop-ass on her.

DADDY: Tries to intervene.

GGC: Oh, did you say "intravenous?"




WEGMANS TRUCK BANDAIDS: Quickly applied.

 Ten seconds later, of course, the fussin was all over.  The bleeding continued until morale improved.

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Despite the rise of human contact near here, it was no guarantee of a continued March toward spring- so this was on my weather app when I got up this morning:



It was still coming down, and sticking, at the moment of our appointed Sunday Dog Park Trip. Or in this case, the Not Dog Park trip, since it's still closed, as it is every "spring," to let the grass reseed and the mud recede.  Our walkin' buds have tried out other venues with us the past few Sundays, but this time we decided to go to Amherst State Park, or in this case, Amherst Not Exactly A State Park. New York funded its purchase some years back, to save a central spot of open town land (surrounding a motherhouse from a former nunnery) from overdevelopment, but the town is responsible for its maintenance and, unfortunately, its law enforcement.

I got there a few minutes earlier than Ann and Ursula did, and did my usual morning juggle of coffee cup, poop bag, and dog.  Pepper got out a little ahead of me, and then I thought I heard my name being called.

Only it wasn't Ray, it was "hey." It was Officer Obie, the Amherst dog control officer, chomping on his cigar and informing me the dog was illegally off leash. To which I replied, "She's ON a leash, I just let her off it for a second."

Wrong answer. He cops (heh) an attitude, begins writing his summons. Ann arrives, takes Pepper down the trail while Obie shows off his DMV Sloth skills at writing it up. THEN he asks for her license number, which I had offered to give him when I was still holding her. So I have to go back and get her, and decide, F this, we're just going home. (The ticket will get dismissed, but it's going to waste an afternoon at the end of April. Maybe it won't be snowing by then.)

But wait, there's more.

Ann then messages me about how the ticket was not a bad thing:

"Ursula and I came within 100 feet of the coyote in the back field. He was laying in wait for us. I turned her around and after we were 600 yards away he was up and sniffing where we had been. So maybe that ticket was a blessing in disguise. Neither Pepper or Ursula would have been on leash when we encountered him."

I suggested that she report the coyote to Animal Control, picturing the joy of making Obie go traipsing around back there. She declined; while I was most afraid he'd have set the park on fire with that cigar, she was more worried that he'd just shoot the thing.

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Busy week ahead. Court appearances every mid-week day. My own appearance isn't until the 29th. That should give him enough time to get his 27 8x10 color glossy pictures together.