Saturday night the coyotes were barking and yipping and howling in the field outside my bedroom window. On the other side of the pane of glass, three motley mutts did their wild best to answer back while I buried my face into pillows and cursed the full moon that turned the open meadow into a shimmering field of white.
Sunday night, the coyotes were back and another night of sweet sleep was replaced with a canine recital of the most cacophonic kind.
Last night, I hung a sheet over the window and explained to the dogs that if they so much as tried to clear the flem from the back of their throat I would light their tails on fire and throw them out the door.
Who knew? I should threaten them more often as all was peaceful in the kingdom at last. Still, this morning it took more than a couple cups of coffee to rouse me. There is no avoiding the walk, however. And so, with the sun all around us, we do what we do.