Get along little doggies!

Buena went into heat almost a week ago. She's about a month early, but that works better for me because if I can find the right mate for her, I'm going to breed her this time. If all goes well, I'll have puppies on New Year's Eve!

However, we had a strange encounter last night that really got me to thinking about being on the desert while she's in heat.

I think I heard the coyote yipping before Buena did because I was already awake by the time she leapt from the bed, pushing against me to propel herself further in a single bound. Barking, she responded to the coyote's yipping.

From the back, I could hear her leaping from driver's side window to passenger window, looking for where that "little doggie" might be. (Fortunately, I had the Mexican blankets on all the other windows, which prevented screen damage in case she should spot it and dig her nails against the screen. I already have patches on the screen from other incidents like this.)

Yip Yip Yip!

The coyote was nearby, possibly in the campground.

In the back, I pulled the blanket away from the large back window which currently faces southeast. As I did so, I was blessed to see one of the Orionid meteorites streaking across Orion's midsection. The waning crescent moon hadn't yet risen, making it even harder to distinguish objects in the velvet night.

Buena continued barking, and the coyote continued yipping.

As they spoke to each other, visions of hulking coyote beasts circling the Godspeed flashed before me. "Buena! Get back here!" I called sharply.

She ignored me, continuing instead to bark from the front of the vehicle.

I had to break out the super-secret command to call her to where I needed her to be. Used too often, this command would be ineffective, but the situation was right, and she knew that potential danger lurked beyond the windows.

She ran to the back, while I pulled the blanket off the window. I soothed her to get her to stop barking so we could listen for the location of the coyote. With the yips getting louder, I deduced he drew nearer.

If he smelled her, would he try to get inside? I don't know how feral coyotes behave around dogs in heat, but they are also canines, so it's quite possible that they would try to mate with a domestic dog. (The next morning, I found the answer to this question. Yes, coyotes can mate with domestic dogs.)

All I could think of was that song that says "Whoopie ty yi yo! Get along little doggies!" I wasn't sure how many doggies were out there. I just wanted them to move along. There's nothing to see at the RV*.

With my hand on Buena, I felt the low growl before hearing it.

"Shhhhhh!" I cautioned. "Wait."

Soon, the yipping stopped, and Buena lay down beside me on the bed. She was asleep before I got back into my sleeping bag. As I lay in the darkness looking for more shooting stars while looking at the patterns in the night sky, I realized she smelled the coyote's absence, relying more on her sense of smell than on her ears. I didn't hear the coyote anymore, despite being awake for about an hour after all the commotion.

* I learned the next morning that in the song "Whoopie ty yi yo! Get along little doggies," the doggies are not canines. I found the "doggies" are actually just "runty or orphaned calves."