It was late Wednesday night – the evening before Veterans Day – 2004, probably already past 8 o’clock.  My cohort, Angel, and I had taken Dad out for yet another prank “I need to pee, trip.”  As usual, he didn’t put us on our leashes, but let us run free a few minutes before settling down for a couple of hours of sleep.  As Angel and I were doing our usual exploring, the piercing beam of Dad’s big 3-cell flashlight barely caught the glowing yellow eyes lurking in the shadow of the big cypress tree down by the creek.  The faint outline was that of a huge Texas Coyote slipping down by the creek edge in hopes of surprising a poor creature out for a late night stroll and making supper out of him.

Being brave as I am, I immediately charged forward, casting fear of bodily harm and probably loss of life completely aside, guarding Dad with my 100 ounce body.  Giving only verbal support, Angel charged along side; of course, she was there for moral support only.

In my bravest, deepest tone, I let the scoundrel know that he was treading on sacred ground – the land owned and entrusted to myself and Angel.  Hearing my blood-curdling bark, it casually turned south and continued up the creek – perhaps looking for an easier prey.  I could only imagine the cold fear that streamed through his body, seeing two viscous guard dogs in hot pursuit.  Frankly, I think I would have done the same thing had I been him….

I could hear Dad yelling across the yard, “Bleu! Angel!  - NO!  Get back here!”  He was running as fast as he could in his house-shoes, but my attack on the intruder (with Angel trailing in the distance) was quickly leaving Dad behind and we were slipping into the shadows of darkness, into the downstream land unknown, into the bog, into the underbrush for the life or death fight.

What other perils awaited us all in the darkness?  A pack of coyotes, wolves, bears, or maybe even snipes!  I already knew that I would fend off the attack regardless of the sacrifice required, or the odds to be met. I apologize for my confidence, but hey – that’s just the way I am.  The 75 pound (others say 30) coyote bounded for the duck pond, scattering two dozen Mallards and Muskovy ducks from here to eternity.  I only knew that I’d have to finish this devil off quickly if I were to save the quackers and my side-kick, Angel, so I let out another set of harsh growls and barks, just to let him know that I meant business, and he was near the end of his life.

Just as we dropped into the darkness of the shadows, the monster came to an abrupt stop and whirled around facing me.  He rolled back his lips, bearing 4 inch (other say 2 inch) long fangs that were dripping saliva in anticipation of a 100 ounce steak.  Being lightning fast (as I am) I made a matching turn only a nanosecond later.  There may have been some cries slip out of my mouth – at least that’s what “some people” say; personally, I think it was Angel, but she claims otherwise.  Actually, I had whirled around so fast that it made my brain go blank.  The next thing that I actually remember was finding myself on the back porch.  Angel quickly came to her senses, seeing that I wasn’t there to defend her, and joined me in the retreat.  Dad, also being pretty smart, followed us both into the house.  I’m not sure what he was doing, but he did go to the closet where he keeps his pistols and went back outside.  I guess he was just checking to see if I had scared the coyote to death, and would haul him off if that were the case.  But, fortunate for the coyote, I hadn’t given him my scariest growl, sparing his life for another day.  Whew – was he lucky that night!

Dad’s been keeping us both on our leash when we’ve gone out the last couple of days.  I guess he’s trying to preserve the coyote population around Friendswood.  Little does he know – I had just as soon spend my energy chasing a leaf blowing down the street, or whatever, and would spare the coyote’s life if he’d just ask.

Well – I won’t bore you by repeating the blain details of how Bleu and I once again tricked Dad into the umpteenth trip of the day to go outside.  Bleu and I love the outdoors and slip off down the creek every chance we get.  But we usually reserve that exploration trip for daylight hours, or for when Dad’s really in a big hurry to go somewhere.  We seldom go off into the dark though – unless we happen upon Harvey the Rabbit out in the yard - then all bets are off!  Then it’s “Katie bar the door!”

The night air was still and moist.  It’s been cloudy for a couple of days, so we knew it was going to rain soon. (Channel 2’s mascot Radar doesn’t have a thing on us!)  And like Bleu said, Dad’s big 3-cell flashlight captured the silhouette of the ravaging yellow-eyed creature lurking near the creek bank.  He was in no particular hurry and certainly showed no fear of either us or Dad.

Bleu did indeed charge forward to ward off this invader.  Little did Bleu know that he was no match for Yellow-Eyes (hereinafter called “Y/E”).  This threat called for the best of the best – i.e., “Me”.  Size doesn’t matter.  Dynamite comes in small packages – and all that stuff.  A war was about to begin.  Bleu let out a dozen wimpy growls and maybe a few barks.  Not enough to scare even a little squirrel, but it was the best that he could muster at the time.  Now you have to understand – my voice is definitely a high pitched soprano, but for those that know just how tough I really am, they’ll pay heed when I utter a sound!

Bleu gave chase to Y/E as he said, but Y/E was almost ignoring him.  As Y/E sauntered on down the creek searching for the darkness, Bleu followed him into the danger zone and was about to become history.  Y/E suddenly became a different animal!  He whirled around his 100 (others say 30) pound muscular body, snarling, growling, and bearing those 6 (others say 2) inch teeth.  He lunged at Bleu but misjudged his first try aim, and immediately recoiled for another strike.  I had been clear across the yard with Dad, checking out the borders when I heard all this commotion going on.  At the speed of the light from Dad’s 3-cell, I’m there!

Bleu, just having narrowly missed becoming Y/E’s supper, let out a 20-count string of cries and had headed for the porch.  He didn’t stop running until he got there, either.  Me?  I’m now in attack mode, vowing to protect Dad at all cost.  My little muscular body was ready for a fight.  I showed Y/E my fangs, albeit a little smaller than his, and cut loose with a machine-gun rate set of growls, with a healthy bark thrown in every once in a while, just for good measure.  By the time Dad had regained his composure and was coming to my aide, Y/E had come to his senses and took off running down the creek bank and out of sight.  I wanted to continue the chase and take care of this joker once and for all but Dad was tired and ready to go inside, so I reluctantly obliged.

The saga is not over though.  Friday night Y/E and 3 of his cohorts were seen in the front yard.  Ohhh…if I had only known.  I’d given them all a lesson that they would not soon forget.  They’d hit the trail and wouldn’t stop for a week.  Meanwhile, for Bleu’s safety, I’ve asked Dad to keep Bleu on a leash when we go out at night.  I’m wearing mine too – just to keep the little guy company.  After all, I am a month older than him!

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