It's the Weekend: The Pup

"Look Out!" the growl was emphatic, direct. Though I was charging down one of the fastest stretches of the Out There, I instinctively gave the brakes a squeeze. "There's a young pup digging in the trail just down there a ways." There was some sincerity in the second part of the warning, so I slowed more and swung the wheels around. He stepped out from behind a Sugar Bush. The "you" we each spoke at the same time seemed rather dull and flat considering we hadn't spoken to one another in a good year. It was the exact opposite of the "you" spoken by that psuedo-Marshal right before Clint Eastwood puts a bullet between his eyes at the end of Pale Rider. Since the tone was set I continued the same - I haven't seen you in a while - no exclamation, no question, just that, a simple statement. "Been busy," Coyote replied.

Now that is an understatement. People in the neighborhood have been talking about you lately. A lot. I realized too late that some inflection had crept into that last. "All good, I'm sure," said Coyote. His eyes narrowed just a little, and I saw some sarcasm at the corners of his mouth. People've been seeing you around more, sometimes two of you together. A couple nights ago, they say you slaughtered someone's dog. The dogs' screams were awfu - "that's a damn lie!" Coyote cut in before I could finish the last word. "Slaughter indeed!"

It was someone's dog, man. Someone's family.

"It was a dog. Just a meal to us. Nothing more, nothing less." Again, the flat, detached voice. He lowered his eyes then, though I wasn't sure if it meant anything. A second later his eyes shot back up "And anyway, who are you to talk about slaughter. I set outside people's windows and listen to the news. I read the paper when it blows though. I know what goes on in the world of people. And you accuse me of slaughter. Hmmmph!

He had me there. So, without any adequate response I turned to leave. "Just watch out for the pup," he said as I rode away.

He was right. Not more than a hundred yard more down the trail, there was indeed a pup digging in the trail, just not the kind of pup I was expecting. I know my eyes are growing older right along with everything else, including perception, and that may have had something to do with it, but I never expected one of the trail maintenance crew to be this young-looking. The shovel he was wielding seemed to tower over him, and he moved aside as I approached. We gave a friendly wave in passing. 

Well, alright then. It is the weekend, isn't it! And boy are there some things to do - Round 2 of the Southridge Winter Series, a 21st anniversary of one of the local brew houses, and... Make it a good one, and Ride On!

wending through the chaparral towards another weekend

like a giant smudge in the sky

The nasty castor bean plant. I pulled this one (and its ten foot long root out), but I was glad to notice where others had likewise been pulled from the ground.