Leader of the Pack

If you hang around this blog at all, you've met Charley.

A mix of Golden Lab and Chesapeake Bay Retriever, he hits the scale at around 90 pounds, and is tall enough to check out the tabletop -- without even stretching to do it.

He's goofy sometimes...but takes his job as guard dog very seriously. I wouldn't have realized this quite so much, without the following:

Late one night, the Brick hadn't come home yet. I was putting in a fresh video when Charley suddenly backed me into a corner. He wouldn't let me out. Growling and barking, he was staring at the deck door, where a man's silhouette was outlined in the dark.
     It was the Brick.
     The second Charley recognized him, he heaved a big sigh, relaxed, and went to meet his master, tail wagging. 

On patrol.

Sir Charles showed this same kind of protection to the chickens, while we had them. (I think he misses them still.) He 'herded' our Abby, and did the same to Karma, our granddog. It's just in his nature.

Our backyard in February, looking toward the neighbors on the west. Notice the fence?

Enter the coyote.

We've known of a large pack who lives in the rocky bluff near us. They've been there for years. On clear nights, you can hear them howling in the distance. Hunting mice and rabbits, no doubt, I've thought. (I've conveniently not thought about their interest in other animals around the neighborhood.)

Kind of peaceful. Really.

Until last night.

Charley was outside for his usual strut around the yard, checking on things. He often does this, last thing, before we go to bed. And occasionally there's Something Out There that he feels the need to bark at. Our yard is enclosed by a 6-foot chainlink fence, so I rarely worry about whatever he's lecturing.

     Some barking. (Whatever.) Silence ensued. I was in the middle of something -- 'I'll let you in, just wait a minute.'

More silence.

Then suddenly howls, very close. 

I tore over to the glass door, calling Charley frantically. He trotted up from the downhill gate, maybe a touch nervous, but on edge. I couldn't tell which of us was more relieved.

A huge chorus of howling, barking and complaints ensued. REALLY loud.

     The entire pack must have been on the other side of the fence! They were obviously hoping for a nice canine buffet, if they could manage to squeeeze through the gaps in the gate -- or somehow lure Charley out. (It's been done, using a 'playful' female as a lure. Then once the dog is out, the rest of the pack sets on him.)

And our beloved Big Boy, in his capacity as Guardian of the Yard, would have gone out to meet them. 
     To protect us.

I couldn't stop shaking. 

It's not the coyotes' fault -- it's in their nature.

I was just grateful their next meal wasn't courtesy of us - or him. 

Cute or not...they're still wild. Coyote photos courtesy of Pinterest