Went for a walk this morning and Peaches got attacked by two coyotes. We were coming back down the hill by Barros’ and Peaches took off out across the desert to avoid a house where the dogs are rather aggressive. About two minutes later, here comes Peaches back to the road about fifty yards ahead of us, and right on her heels is a big, rangy coyote and another one about ten yards behind. We, of course, started yelling, but they were not deterred and soon Peaches disappeared around a bend in the road with both coyotes in hot pursuit. Kathy took off running and screaming and I guarded the back trail (I was in my slippers, okay?). The noise and the excitement brought out Chuck Van Horn from his horse arena and he and I had the following exchange:
“They’re getting real nasty,” Chuck says, shaking his head.
“Brazen, really,” I say, walking past, hoping he doesn’t notice my fluffy slippers.
“Got any guns down at your house?”
“Yes. A Winchester and a Colt .45.”
“Well, if you need any help...”
“I think we can handle it, but thanks.”
“Maybe they’re riled up because they saw those slippers.”
Cut my finger yesterday while slicing a lemon to put in the pancake mix (you combine the lemon juice with baking soda and it makes them extra fluffy, like my slippers). I was trying to cut and talk long distance with Bob Brink in Florida. He was telling me he has hired us a sales rep for Santa Fe. I kept talking like nothing was the matter and dripped blood in the mix (made it a nice pink) and on my slippers (made a little Playboy bunny logo on the toe, see photo).
“Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you fall into an open sewer and die.”
—Mel Brooks
