WO_EmeraldGreenSmokey

I was living near a very busy highway, and that is not a comfortable place to live if you have pets that roam
freely, so I was quite mortified one morning to see two fuzz-balls bouncing toward me from the other side. I held
my breath, but fortunately they crossed the highway at a moment when there was a lull in traffic.

"Where did you two guys come from?" Where did they come from? I wondered. I looked up to see if they had
been accompanied by someone, when at that moment a wild Coyote topped the crest of the hill on the other
side of the highway. She was being followed by four pups, and it was then that I realized these two were hers. I
tried to get her attention, but she was having none of it, so I tried to encourage the two pups to follow their
mother, but by then all of their attention had become focused on me. The situation quickly developed into a
hopeless attempt to reunite mother and pups. The coyote quickly disappeared with her remaining brood in tow,
and I found myself in possession of two abandoned coyote puppies. And quite gregarious pups they were, too,
bouncing and wagging their tails, showing no fear of me. But they were coyotes! What to do? They were such
cute pups, not at all like what we've grown to expect from a wild coyote. They didn't quite look like the coyotes
we would see where I live -- not normally anyway -- but since it is not at all uncommon for coyotes to breed with
domesticated dogs, it appeared that these two must fit into the latter category. They had beautiful markings: tan
and black with dark ridges down their backs. I estimated their ages at between seven and eight weeks. I took
one last look in the direction where I had last seen the coyote. She was gone, and with her any hope of
returning her lost progeny, so I did the only thing left for me to do: I took the two waifs home.

Soon after the two came to live with me I realized that I would not be able to keep them both so I arranged for
someone I knew to take one of them, and I talked my mother into taking the other. In time I would wish that I had
kept them both, but that is another story. Mother recalled a childhood pet with the name of "Smokey," so
Smokey became the name of her new coyote pup.

Smokey proved to be a real handful for her and we were never sure if it was the Coyote side or the Rhodesian
Ridgeback side or the wonderful combination of the two. This young dog shredded just about everything that
wasn’t nailed down in my mom’s house, but her kind and gentle nature made up for all the chaos. Smokey had
a fondness for watching the world go by outside the window, especially when it involved other animals. On one
occasion, she spied two large St. Bernard dogs were walking by the house with their owner. That proved to be
too stimulating for Smokey, so she jumped clear through the closed glass window just to be with those dogs.
When she reached them, she did the normal doggy thing and wagged her tail, barked a lot and greeted them
with lots of sniffing. She somehow managed to avoid getting a single scratch from that ordeal. The window had
to be replaced -- but this time it wouldn’t be single paned!

One day my mom let Smokey outside into the yard to do her nightly ‘business’. Shortly afterward, she heard a
wild commotion coming from next door. She looked outside and realized that Smokey was next door at the
neighbor's house, and the husband was on top of his car stomping around, yelling to his wife to go get his gun!
Smokey was running around the car in circles, barking. My mother later found out that earlier in the day a storm
had knocked down part of the fence that normally keeps Smokey in, and that was how she made her escape.
My mom raced out and tried to calm the man down by informing him that Smokey meant no harm, and if he
would just stop yelling, she could collect Smokey and get her back into the house. He was very drunk as was
often the case and equally angry. The wife came out saying she couldn’t find the gun, and when Smokey saw
her she ran to her. Smokey was intrusive, but she was always gentle. Her only intentions were to sniff the lady
and maybe bark a few times. But the woman panicked, and started kicking at Smokey. Somehow in the ensuing
scuffle Smokey either scratched her or her mouth grazed the woman’s leg when she kicked Smokey in the
mouth. The wound appeared superficial, but the neighbours raced to the hospital. Afterward they proclaimed
that they were going to sue!

The next day Animal Control left a note on my mother’s door saying that there would be a court hearing to
determine if Smokey was a dangerous dog. We were devastated. When my mother arrived at the courthouse
she had Smokey with her. She wanted to show the judge how gentle Smokey was, but they informed her that
would not be necessary and that they had enough evidence already. They declared Smokey a dangerous dog
on the spot and gave my mother two choices: Have the dog put down, or build a six foot fence around her entire
yard with a 6 inch incline at the top and a foot of cement below the ground. If a fence could not be built, she
would have to be confined to a dog run that was closed in at the top, padlocked and posted with bright yellow
‘dangerous dog’ signs on all sides. She would have to be tattooed with a dangerous dog code on her inner thigh
that could be recognized by Animal Control Officers should she ever escape again, and she had to be muzzled
whenever outside, including when walking from the house to a dog run. If she were to escape, my mother was
told that she could face 30 days in jail in addition to a steep fine. My mom called me later that day in tears and
told me that she just couldn’t manage the situation and felt that Smokey would have to be put down. Needless to
say this was a devastating ordeal for my mother and for me. If I only I had reunited Smokey with her mother.
Instead of being a family pet she would be part of a wild coyote/dog pack in the desert, but at least she wouldn’t
be facing this.

I decided to take Smokey and follow through with all of the conditions of the court myself. Within a week, I had
her tattooed, bought a 9’ x 9’ dog run, had the signs posted, bought a muzzle and a padlock for the run. I
wanted to build a fence and planned to in the future but I just didn’t have the money at the time and had to settle
for the run. At least she was still with us.

On my way to work one day I put her in her run as I usually did and locked the padlock, or at least I thought I
had. As it turned out, I hadn’t squeezed the lock hard enough for it to click and lock completely. When I arrived
home from work, I noticed immediately that Smokey was not in her run. I panicked and raced around my yard
calling for her and ran right into the Animal Control officer. He had her in the back of his truck. He told me that
he was taking her to the pound and that I would be going to jail and would have to pay a large fine. He said that
it was in my best interest to put her down and I could have sworn he was enjoying every minute of it. I was
devastated. Animal Control had come to my house on a surprise inspection visit and took her out of the run she
was in and now wanted me to put her to sleep. I have never begged so much in my life and after about half an
hour, he released her to me with a $500.00 ticket.

I lived in a university neighbourhood and football was huge there. I had left Smokey in the care of a friend. He
called me at work one evening and said that Smokey had gotten out. A visiting friend of ours had opened the
door to the yard and she was gone! I looked at my watch and realized that the game was going to let out in
about two minutes and then my street and all the streets within a 5 block radius would be filled to the brim with
students, yelling, drinking and having a good time. I didn’t even tell my boss I was leaving and raced to my car
and drove like a crazy person to get home. It was dark and pedestrians were everywhere. I parked my car and
just started calling her name, looking for her up one street and down the other. After half an hour of frantic
searching, feeling defeated and about to give up, I prayed that she would just somehow materialize. I knew this
was asking a bit much since she almost never responded when I called. But at that moment I heard the familiar
jingling of her collar and I looked up to see Smokey coming right towards me from the alley near where I was.
She waltzed right up and barked as if to say “Hi mom! What are you doing here?!?” She was just over a year at
that time, and she was as large as a German Shepherd, but not taking any chances I picked her up and carried
her like a baby for two blocks to my house.

Animal Control had informed me that the sentence under which Smokey was living would last the length of her
life unless I moved outside of the city limits. I thought about this often and when I had the opportunity to move
back to Canada, I took it and took her with me. No more muzzles, dog runs or padlocks. The only evidence of
that horrible year and a half was the tattoo she would sport forever.

Smokey and I had a great life together and she remained gentle as always the entire time. She was loyal and
loving and shared these qualities with my other animals as well. She was particularly fond of the three ferrets I
had and focused most of her attention on my three legged ferret named Cassidy. I could often find them
snuggled up together having a nap. She was also famous for her policing duties among the cats. She adored
them and whenever a scrap broke out, she was on the scene to break it up. She would literally guide one cat to
one corner using her nose to push the cat along and then do the same with the other cat. Then she’d park
herself between them until things settled down and everyone was getting along again. She was an amazing
creature.

Time moved on, and when Smokey was 14 years of age her back legs began to give her trouble. She began to
develop stiffness and she would struggle with the stairs. The vet gave us medicine to relieve the inflammation
and dull the pain. The medication worked quite well for two years, enabling her to resume a relatively normal
life. She loved to run and play and loved other animals, and in the meantime we found her a playmate. We
acquired Muddy from the local SPCA. Smokey and Muddy became instant mates, and spent three joyous years
together. But Smokey was getting older, and Muddy was still much younger. Muddy's own gregarious nature
began to expose some of the wear and tear that dear Smokey had acquired through the years. On occasion
after she had sat down she would not be able to get back up. I would have to physically set her up again. This
arrangement worked well for her, and I really didn't mind helping her in this way, but it was inevitable that the day
would come that even after I had helped her up she would not be able to stand. It was heart-breaking to see her
struggle to stay afoot only to sink back down. I picked her up just like I had 15 years earlier and carried her into
the house with tears streaming down my face.

I called the vet and arranged for him to come to our house. As the vet pulled into our driveway, my stomach
began to fill with uneasy butterflies. We allowed Muddy to say goodbye and brought him over to Smokey, but he
refused to look at her. Muddy had done the same thing with our cat Tiger before I took him into the vet to be put
to sleep. It was as though Muddy sensed what was happening.

My husband walked Muddy down the path away from the house and away from what was about to happen. They
approached the van and just as the vet stepped out, Muddy pricked his ears and growled. In the few years that
he had been with us, he had never growled at anyone.

Smokey presented her usual pleasant self to the vet. And though she couldn’t get up to offer a proper greeting,
she wagged her tail to let him know that he was welcome. Smokey had always been like that. Sweet, gentle
Smokey. So full of life. So gregarious. So brave to lead her sister across that busy highway that day. So
eager to make new friends. Even though misunderstood, still forgiving. And so she remained right to the end.

Rest in peace sweet Smokey. I hope you and your sister are together again.

Smokey, the Wiley Coyote
by Emeraldgreen
(used by permission)

Smokey, the Wiley Coyote

Here is a video clip of Smokey, which Emeraldgreen so graciously shared.

[The above true story was pieced together through a series or emails I received from
someone who has read my other stories. "Emeraldgreen," who prefers otherwise to remain
anonymous, is that person's online screen name. -- D.T.]