Charlie

 I don't know why this impacted me so.

 

I've lost pets, and I've grieved over them. However, when I checked in again to www.dailycoyote.net. I was impacted a second time over the loss of Charlie, the coyote. And for Shreve Stockton, who is still grieving. 

 

Charlie was almost fourteen years old, a good age for a coyote, and he lived a happy life on the farm with Shreve, Mike, her partner, a hound dog named Chloe, and Eli, a tomcat. 

 

And I found that Shreve had taken a year off from writing. 

 

I have followed Shreve's site since reading her book, My Daily Coyote in 2009. She was riding a Vespa from San Francisco to New York when she stopped in Wyoming and found a home. She made it to New York but went back to Wyoming, where she fell in love with the land and a man. When her partner brought home an orphaned coyote pup after his mother had been shot for killing sheep, she had a family. That family expanded to another dog, two cats, numerous cows, and chickens. And the one coyote who entered the fray as one of the gang. 

 

Someone wrote that this story wouldn't have a happy ending. They thought the coyote would eat the cat and bite Shreve's face off while she slept, but Charlie cuddled with the cat and dog, and they frolicked and played together. When Charlie was sick, a magpie came to Shreve. As magpies were not familiar in that area, she felt it was Eli, who came to help Charlie transition to the other side, or maybe it was to help Shreve.

 

Over the years, I worried that he might get shot, but he lived to a good age and died of natural causes. The story ended sadly, but his legacy lives on, and his life was happy.

 

Thousands of people fell in love with Charlie. And a ten-day-old, eyes-not-yet open coyote pup became a phenomenon.

 

I thought of how we become embroiled in other people's lives, and although Charlie was a real flesh and blood animal, I only knew of him through Shreve's magic words and photos. She is an excellent photographer and began taking a picture a day of Charlie and sending them to friends who sent them to friends. And with the blog and a nod from Rosie O'Donnell, it got national attention. And I know Charlie and Shreve more intimately than some acquaintances in real life.

 

Fiction can be that way as well, for we know the characters in ways real people will not share. We know their thoughts and feelings. We ache with them, are embarrassed with them, and take joy in their joy. I remember reading that in England, when Jo, a character in the novel Little Women, died, the country went into mourning.

 

 

For a fun read, check out, A Journey into Inner Earth by jewell d on amazon.com

 

 

SCUBA, whales, a school bus, six kids, and a journey to the North Pacific and into a land inside the earth. (A review would be lovely.)

Have You Ever Run a Red Light?

Blog Nov. 17, 20

 

 I have.

 I didn’t mean to.

I looked up, shocked to see a red light, for some stupid reason I didn't expect it to be there, I was only going two blocks.  Sure, it was pouring down rain, but a red light? I should have seen it.

And what in the heck was that car doing in the middle of the intersection? I slammed on my breaks turned to the left, thinking I would avoid hitting that car, but, Bam!

 Crap! Crap! Crap!

Nobody was hurt, except the vehicles. Her car, my truck—you know, my office on wheels. We have owned that truck for 20 years. It’s a Toyota T100. Repair people have told me to never sell that truck—it’s fixable…or was. Now, it may go bye-bye.

 My Adrenalin kicked in and I had to sit a while to calm my nerves that had taken on a life of their own. And my little dog, Sweetpea, hugged my thigh and didn’t want me to leave the vehicle. But out in the rain, I went, wearing a light rain jacket that long ago lost its ability to shed rain, and decided to soak me to the skin. And then an angel appeared--a young woman came up to me and said, “Nobody was hurt. You’re alive. Take a deep breath, hold it for four seconds, and slowly exhale. It will lower your blood pressure.” It helped. She disappeared, and I was left wondering, “Who was that un-masked woman?”

 I love her.

 Everyone was so nice. The two young women in the bashed-in car didn’t yell at me, the police were most helpful, the first responder deputy asked me what happened, and I blurted out: “I ran a red light!” So, he gave me a citation for not obeying a traffic signal. Afterward, I thought, “You didn’t see me run that red light.” But I knew I was at fault.

 One day I was writing about how we create our own reality, and the next day I crash. What is this?! 

Strange that the other vehicle driver and I both live in Junction City—a few blocks from each other, we were both in Eugene on a black, wet night at 8:30 p.m. We were both at the same place at the same time--not a good way to meet.

 To add to my state of mind, minutes before I left, I saw on the internet that Charlie had died. That impacted me severely, as though one of my own animals had died. I read Sheve Stockton’s account of his last days and felt such grief. Charlie was a coyote, raised from a pup by Sheve. After reading Sheve’s book, The Daily Coyote, I read her blog and followed their adventures for eleven years. I had some emotion invested. I should not have been on the road.

 Charlie was 14, I suppose that’s a good age for a dog or a coyote, and I used to worry that someone might shoot him—seeing a coyote, but he made it through to old age. He was beautiful. That shiny full coat showed how handsome a loved, cared for, and well-fed Coyote can be. I would send a picture, but Sheve is a photographer and one must get permission to reprint one of her photos. She’s an excellent writer too.

 Her partner brought Charlie home to her one day, rescued after his mother was shot. She began photographing him daily and sending pictures home to her family.  Her book, The Daily Coyote was born from that. Charlie played with the dog they eventually got, and the cat, and roamed the farm with Sheve among the cattle and calves. There are many of her pictures on the internet. 

 I thought going out in the truck, running a couple of errands, being away from people, and bringing home Kentucky Fried Chicken would calm my beaten soul.

 I was wrong.

 

 

 I guess it’s okay to use this image since it’s of a published book.