Squirrels, Coyotes and the Dalai Lama

Presently  two members of my herd are really sick, which takes a lot of emotional energy not  to mention  money.  Lots of money. It's all taking it's toll and is more than a bit worrisome.

But not to sound too much like Pollyanna, or Dalai the Dane’s namesake, the Dalai Lama, something can usually make me snap out of the gloom and make me giggle.  And thank goodness for that.

Last week in an attempt to update people and allay my fears about Dalai’s disc surgery, I posted something about her on Twitter. Imagine my surprise when I got a message – and a follow back – from the Dalai Lama. I’m sure it was from whoever handles His Holiness’ social media account, and they must have an algorithm which searches for his name. It still made my day. I figured that considering the dire situation Dalai was in, having the Dalai Lama on her side couldn’t hurt.

Then there are the daily encounters with wildlife. I live in a peculiar section of Los Angeles where the rural meets the urban. One block sports horses and farm animals while the next is filled with apartment dwellers leading Chihuahuas and other pocket dogs, usually wearing more clothing than their owners.

The other night around 2AM I heard a coyote howling. That in itself isn’t too surprising. Coyotes are pervasive in Los Angeles, and they are bold. A few weeks ago around mid-morning I saw a pair sitting in front of my house, not 30 feet away from where a cable guy was working up a ladder. The man was oblivious to them. I don’t have small dogs or outdoor cats, but I still didn’t want the coyote to get used to being in my front yard in broad daylight. I banged and crashed about, and yelled at the things until they finally slinked away. The man just thought I was nuts. I however was extremely proud of terrifying a few dumb predators.

I must not have scared them very much, because the other night, the coyote sounded really close.  Murray sure believed he was.  Nothing in the world will wake you up faster than a coyote yodeling, except when it’s joined by two Great Danes and  every other dog on the street. It was like a less amusing version of the dog telephone in 101 Dalmatians.  It was also a lot louder.

When I looked out the window it was just one lonely coyote, standing in the middle of my street. I think the dogs finally annoyed him, because after a few minutes of howling he trotted off. Everyone in the neighborhood was now awake. His job was done.

As I write this, I’m witnessing a bigger smackdown than anything the MMA has to offer: Poppy the Brittany vs. the squirrels.  I have two enormous pine trees on my property. They are easily 60 feet tall and are host to a ton of avian species ranging from crows and mourning doves to hummingbirds.  They are home to a family or two of squirrels.

Periodically the squirrels squabble with each other. Not only do they chase their nemesis’s around and around the tree trunks, they babble at the top of their lungs while doing so. Naturally that draws the attention of Poppy.

Brittanys are bird dogs, bred to flush and retrieve ducks, partridges and pheasant.  I can state with some conviction that Poppy has never seen any of those fowl close up. But instinct is strong, and she is willing to adapt. She is convinced that the squirrels are her enemies and need to be vanquished

.  In the past she has even caught an unsuspecting few.

So Poppy happily parks herself under the trees and stares up at the squirrels. For hours on end. I don’t know why she doesn’t have a permanent crick in her neck.  Just watching her gives me a neck ache.

My current squirrels are not dumb enough to get caught.  But they are vindictive. They hate Poppy with a vengeance. They regularly pause in their infighting just to torment her. They run down the tree just low enough on the tree to entice Poppy to leap around and bark at them. When she does, they shake a paw at her and chatter away. This goes on for hours.

Eventually they all take a short break. Poppy will lie down at the base of the tree and take a nap, and the squirrels do whatever they do when they’re not taunting dogs. Until the whole thing begins a few minutes later.

The really wacky thing is that I can spend an inordinate amount of time just watching them, being grateful that I have the opportunity to do so. Which, I guess is how I handle the other stuff.