We keep finding ourselves at the pond. It’s a puzzle to find the right place to walk when two dogs need to run, one dog wants to run and shouldn’t, and one dog can get run over if the other dogs are running. And when dark’s now coming soon, instead of waiting a couple hours. I can’t quite work the math out on this one.

The forest up the hill has always been our spot, but I had another coyote run-in the other day. This time it was the big werewolf one. Just one, but it’s big enough to count as four. I don’t know what that thing is. My patented Gustavo alert system knew there were coyotes near, so I got everybody in on a leash and hoped for the best. And then there he was, just ahead of us on the path, right in the light of day. Big, big, big coyote.

They tend to run off, but they’ve been so bold and out at such odd times and in such odd places, that I’m not so sure about them anymore. This one took a while to leave, I’ve seen him before and I’m scared of him. Her? I don’t know. He’s always been alone, but I don’t know that he doesn’t have accomplices waiting in the wings. He’s also just so big, has different colored fur than the others. He’s a different thing entirely.

A nice walk for us is three or four miles. Gustavo and Banksy run most of that, I like to run a bit, too. Not as fast as them. Otterpop and Ruby have to go whatever speed I do. Round the pond isn’t even spitting distance. But as the days get shorter and while the days stay drier, I think we have to stick to the flatlands. Sorry about that, dogs.