The White-Tail Tale

A shimmering Sunday afternoon several weeks ago, I was stealing five minutes of silence on the screened-in porch,  reading the paper in between chauffering sessions.  

“Cali,” I heard Tara warn our 7-month Aussie, who she had been playing with for the better part of an hour.

“Cali!” she yelled agin.

I glanced up to see  the raised white-tail of a deer galloping through our yard, followed by a coyote, then Cali.  They bolted through our yard, then the neighbors, then they kept going.  Tara ran after them, and I ran from the porch after them.  It has been years since my feet went from zero to sixty in three seconds, and I hope it is years until I have to do it again.  That white hot pain, burning though my chest, my heart pounding.  Visible through my chest? I don’t know.

As the trio of animals kept running, I realized the “coyote” was a fawn, probably only days old. The mama deer ran off track, and the fawn and Cali ran into the cornfields.  Oh no! How were we going to get them now?  I could hear the jangling of Cali’s tags, so I knew that she was close by.  Suddenly, fawn and pup appeared nose to tail, the fawn in front, bleating-bleating for its mom.

We chased and called for a couple more houses, Cali oblivious to us.  Then, as the yard lines curved, Tara continued to follow the pair as I cut across towards the front yard. As the pair slowed, Tara managed to step on the end of Cali’s leash, which she had been dragging behind her.  

Breathing hard, we slowly walked back to the house, leash held tight.  Wouldn’t any curious puppy do the same, we thought.

So now Cali no longer plays in the yard without a long lead rope, just in case…. C

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