What Were We Thinking

Last night we heard the slaughter. Those homeless dogs, the coyotes on their urban prairie. They sound like babies screaming and there's more of them than before.

Like a mean gang they caught something and killed it. Tore it apart and celebrated in hysterical screams, terrifying laughter.

Then the police came like they always do, to break up the fight and scatter the herd. Some hapless neighbor who can't find her cat then calls the fuzz when she hears the thugs.

But this was their land first so maybe we should feed them. All of them. Take them in like family and end all the madness. They could go with us to take the kids to school then home to chew on an old shoe.

Instead we'll lock them out and call the fuzz again when we hear them. The neighborhood cop, that poor guy who just wants to stay warm. Blast again the horn and the scattering siren. Send them to the hills just a few feet away.

It's all worthless though. We'd laugh to think of it but soon they'll be mowing our lawns and taking out the garbage. They'll be living in our homes with us on the street, chasing their young into the ally. Behind the homes that used to be ours.

Chris RonanComment