Spawn of Satan

Inspired by a new scifi/fantasy anthology: Must Love Hellhounds.

The dogs were barking louder and more insistently than usual.

“Damn it!” Frustrated with yet another interruption, I saved my work on the computer and headed to the living room. All this commotion was probably just in response to someone walking up the street. At worst, a loose dog was running across the yard again.

I had to check, though. What’s the point of having dogs that alert you to intruders, even far out on the street, if you ignore their alarms. Unfortunately, these alarms were going off pretty frequently lately and I wasn’t making much headway with my work.

Forcing myself to be calm rather than stomping to the front windows, I followed up on the latest canine crisis. Their barking was continuing longer than normal so I wasn’t going to be surprised to find someone standing in front of the gate. I peered out the windows.

Nothing. Not a soul in sight.

The dogs quieted down – after all, they had succeeded in getting my attention – but they were still on alert, eyes focused out the window. I checked carefully in the direction they were staring. Nope. Not a thing.

Angel jumped off the bench and ran into the bedroom; the danger must have headed that way. I followed and found her standing at the window, front paws up on the sill, staring intently down our little side street. Nothing was out there that I could see.

I laughed and straddled her with my legs. Her body was quivering with tension; she didn’t think the danger had passed. I thought I caught a glimpse of something – maybe a tail? – disappearing into the brush but it was too brief to get a good look.

We stood there for a minute. Suddenly a skinny coyote with a scraggly coat came trotting back up the street. Angel instantly went back on full alert. It paused to glance towards the fenced yard before turning into the driveway.

“Oh, boy,” I thought. “Angel is not going to like this.”

Her hackles quickly rose and her ruff expanded as big as a lion’s mane. Her ferocious barking meant to inform the coyote that a dog lived here, one that was not to be trifled with. The coyote didn’t even spare us a glance. It just trotted past the house and out of sight.

Angel dropped her front paws off the windowsill and looked at me reproachfully; “See, I told you there was danger. Why won’t you let me take care of it? That was the Spawn of Satan!”

I wondered again what drives her deep-seated hatred of coyotes. I like coyotes, personally, and hope this one will stick around to eat some of the rabbits and quail that are sure to raid our garden.

There are no coincidences in life, though. The pound picked Angel up in this area almost three years ago. Maybe she has a history with coyotes, possibly even this very individual.

Or, maybe she knows something that we don’t. Her name is “Angel,” after all. Who better to recognize the Spawn of Satan?

I’d hate to think it were true; as I said, I like coyotes. Without them, we'd quickly be overrun with hungry rabbits and quail. Well, with any luck, maybe heaven and hell can manage to co-exist just a little longer.