After kabonging around the house and no car to go walk on leash somewhere new, I decided there was enough snow on the fields to buffer us from our tick neighbors.
So at twilight the pup and I set out over the field, first time since last winter for me, so pretty exciting . First time for him to be allowed to wander out of the yard.
As we crunched our way to the tip top of the rise, all of which is really a steep foothill of the range, tumbling down ,since ,forever to the wide Connecticut, we paused.
Below us in the ravine, someone sizable was walking along near the stream bed, as you could hear the cracking of the ice with each step .
Dante and I both stood, stock still, breathless, looking in the direction, listening.
The small wind was moving from behind us to whomever was traversing the ravine, so they had both heard our crunching up across the field, Dantolicious's crazed leaping about, and me showing him coyote paw prints to snuffle.
Seems a good thing to get to know both your neighborhood, and your neighbors.
Yesterday I saw that, for the second night in a row, the lone cub had wandered very independently from the two adults and one adolescent, round the back of the cottage, while the rest simply like to cut between the houses for some reason .
Course, every reasoning begins with survival, so every choice they make, save when the pickings are plentiful and bellies full, involves first and foremost survival .
The sun set further , illuminating the plowed furrows of the land, curving in snow clad lines round the edge of the field, as we walked a bit further uphill toward the road, me keeping a relaxed but careful eye out for company in the deepening night.
The lights in the house gleamed before the puffs of our breath in the air before us , as we circled
about the house, happily catching sight of teenaged Possum paw prints , with the adorable small trail of the tail right beside.
Back inside, little old Shiva raised her head from her perch on the bed, catching the scent of all that delicious fresh air, as I unbuckled the young one, went up the few steps to her , ruffled her beautiful old miniature Husky fur, and slipped her collar on, a sure sign of a venture outside.
She leaps up happily, gets her footing I help her head in the right direction, using my hip to press the ever enthusiastic, dangerously coned pup away from her. Assist her dow
n the three steps, stick on the leash, and with nary a look behind ( at the sad pup) off we go.
To wherever she wants to walk and snuffled and wander, for however long she wants to, the sweet old queen.
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