Coyote Positives

After my little rant about lazy coyotes, I received several e-mails complaining that I may have gone too far.  Some even went so far as to say it was unchristian. The sternest rebuke came from Mayor Lucy Lou, first female mayor of Rabbit Hash, Kentucky:


Mr. Milkweed, before insulting and generally badmouthing someone, you should walk a mile in their moccasins.  Remember what it says in the Good Book: Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.  If I were you, I'd follow the advice of my dear departed grandmother, "If you can't say nothing nice about someone, keep your dad-blamed trap shut!"


I put my head down between my legs and began to think. Do I harbor a grudge against coyotes?  Was I prejudiced?


It turned out I was.  So I'm takin' the advice of Lucy Lou, and will now say some positive things about coyotes (no matter how painful that might be).


1) Coyotes are great recyclers.  They'll consume and use what others throw away.
2) Coyotes are very social. They like to eat together, and love to serve others.
3) Coyotes kill the weaker and older animals, making sure there's food for everybody else.  I'm sure the weaker/older animals don't look at this as a positive, but they don't see the big picture.
4) There's nothing more fun-loving than a coyote. They can howl and party all night long.


Well, that turned out to be a lot easier than I expected. I'll keep tryin' to think of positive things to say. And by the way, if you're interested in learning more about Lucy Lou, here's a link to Rabbit Hash:
http://www.rabbithashhistsoc.org/the-mayor/current-mayor-lucy-lou/

Letter for Mr. Coyote

Nowadays it seems that anybody that wants to, can get on-line and make a nuisance of themselves. They'll say nasty things about other people, or just try to get everybody riled up. So I can't say I was that surprised when I got my first e-mail from one of those lowdown, lazy, stinkin' coyotes.

I believe it was one of those educated critters, probably learned to read from chewin' on some poor old feller's dictionary, or by stealin' some poor old lady's Sunday paper. He had taken time out from his busy day of chicken thievin' and generally bein' an all around botheration to try to rile old Otis. Well, Otis doesn't rile that easy.

He was braggin' about how he was his own master, and did what he wanted to do, when he wanted to do it. He didn't owe nothing to no man, and lived free.

That just goes to show how deceitful and ignorant these critters are! Livin' off the labor of others and braggin' about how they live free. These coyotes seem proudest when they're stealin' some poor hard workin' farmer's chickens, or eatin' a pet cat. They think that's their fair share, just because they're coyotes.

Well, I got a four letter word for all you no-good coyote scum: WORK. Give it a try sometime and maybe you won't have to spend Thursday mornins' with your head stuck in somebody else's trash can.

And, by the way, I'm proud to be a WORKIN' hound. The food is acceptable and the health benefits are great. (I don't know about retirement, I'm still too young).

For anybody that cares or is interested, I've attached Mr. Coyotes e-mail.

( I already have plans for Thursday, but my friends Otto and Gustav plan to fill in for me. )

Deer Odis,
I'd expext a lazy hownd to wayst his tyme ritin' all about his self. An' ritin' stuff that ain't true about his Kaynine kousins. We, cyotes don't serve no man. We live free, takin' what we want, and not expextin' a han' out from no man. Come on out next Thersday. Me and my buddies will layrn you about the free life.
SINceerly,
Wile E. Cyote, Esq,

American Foxhunter

Now that I've moved out of the hills and livin' with a new pack, I've been gettin' to know other kinds of dogs. I see them leadin' their people along the street, or bein' driven around in a car. I've also noticed that they're hangin' out with some strange birds.

Once in a while, one of my dog pals will ask me what kind of owner an American Foxhunter would make, and if maybe they should get one. Usually this is some foo-foo lapdog, very friendly, but without what you'd call an athletic build. I try to explain that ownin' a Foxhunter can be challengin' and is not for the faint of heart.
To help my canine amigos, I've put together a little summary on what I know about the American Foxhunter. Let me make this straight as rain, Otis Milkweed doesn't claim to be no expert and I've actually only lived with "real" hunters for a short time. But, after watchin' some of them experts on the TV, I feel I'm just as qualified as anybody else.

So, here it is:

The AMERICAN Foxhunter

The American Foxhunter is an old breed, datin' all the way back to one of the first of its kind, George Washington. Foxhunters are also considered to be a RARE breed and, unless things change, may end up extinct one day.

City living is not recommended for this breed. They need to be outdoors with plenty of space to roam around in.

Although the foxhunter is traditionally not an inside person, he is actually well mannered in the home. He will need a heavy dose of obedience training, usually provided by the female of the species.

The foxhunter gets along best with other hunters or with canine companionship. He is gentle, and easy to get along with, though he doesn't often show how he feels. Foxhunters are kind and love the company of children. Most foxhunters are shy around strangers.

As their wives will tell you, training requires patience and skill because of their independence and occasional hard-headedness.

I would wholeheartedly recommend a foxhunter as an owner. But don't expect for him to treat you like some pampered pet. A foxhunter takes pride in his hound, and expects it to outperform and outrun the other hunters' dogs.

I hope this helps. If you all have any more questions, just ask old Otis.

Try, Try Again

One thing I've learned in the amount of time I've spent in this TOWNHOUSE (that's what they call it) is that most of the things I'd like to have are just out of my reach. Another thing I've learned is that I have to look up to see those good things.

I had never tried to REACH one of those things before. I figured I'd wait until I grew older and wiser. But then I thought: why should I wait? How will I know I can't reach them unless I try?

I decided I'd try for the highest counter top in the kitchen first, figurin' if I could reach it, I could reach the lower ones easy. I'd seen enough TV to know if you want to take off, you need a runway. So I started from under the table, took off at high speed, and when I reached maximum velocity, launched myself upwards.

As soon as I heard the thud, and felt a sharp pain in my noggin', I knew I'd missed my target. I thought I heard a siren, too, but that turned out to be somebody hollerin' at me. Somethin' about how I dented a cabinet.

Well, I admit I was a bit disappointed, and things didn't turn out like I hoped, but Otis P. Milkweed is an optimist:

If at first you don't succeed, wait until your legs grow longer, and try again.

Dog Names

People sure seem to spend a lot of time trying to figure out what to name their dogs. I guess it is important, since they'll have to be shoutin' it out or sayin' it over and over (and other people will hear it):

"Fluffy, come here!" "FiFi, put down that can of caviar!"

When I hear these names, I know Fluffy is some panty-waist lap dog, and that Fifi is one of those high falootin' poodles.

A foxhound has a job to do, and places to be. He has a mortal enemy to chase, and a pack to run with. A foxhound is the very opposite of lap dog.

So, you know you'll never hear of a foxhound named Snookum or Cuddles.

Sometimes, people name their dogs to show how smart or political correct the OWNER of the dog is:
"Einstein, quit chewin' that electrical cord!" "World Peace, look at that mess on the floor!"

Most fox hunters I know are happy to admit they don't know everything, and don't really care a whole lot about what other people think.

So, don't expect to see too many foxhounds named Oppenheimer.

Somehow, the fox hunter knows the "true" name of their hounds. When I say "true" name, I mean the name we hounds would call ourselves. Names like Batman, Kingfish, Weedeater. Just like the name of my mother, Bonnie (which means "pretty" in Scottish, for those who don't know).

That's why I'm so proud of my name, Otis. They tell me it's an Old English name and means "treasure." Well, anybody who knows me, knows that's what I am, a "treasure."

A word of warnin' to all you coyotes:

Don't worry about seeking your "treasure," 'cause he's going to find you first.

Question and Answer

Many of my hound buddies have been e-mailin' me, asking what's it like to be an INSIDE dog and a pet. I'm goin' to take some time to answer your questions, but first of all I want to make one thing clear: Otis P. Milkweed ain't nobody's PET. Just because I'm not runnin' with a four legged pack anymore, doesn't mean I've turned into some sissy lap dog. If you don't believe me, just send me your address and I'll come over and give you the lickin' you've never ... (sorry about that, but some things just burn me up).

To my old buddy Cletus Ledbetter in beautiful Kingsport, TN:
Cletus, I'm afraid it's true. The good stuff doesn't come out of a 50 lb paper bag. It doesn't even come out a can. The good stuff comes out of what they call a stove, which is kind of like a campfire in a box. Just like the rest of you, I enjoy a salty why-eenie sausage, but take my word for it, what those females are getting out of that stove beats anything our hunter friends are giving us from a bag (including their lunch).

To my new friend Big Wheel Filligrew from Rainbow City, Alabama:
BW wanted to know what the hunters do when they ain't huntin'. As far as I can tell, the same thing as us: sittin' around, growlin' and whinin' and waitin' for the next hunt. And, by the way, for all you hound puppies that think your hunter is the boss, you haven't seen him with his tail between his legs when he tracks mud in the house!

To my wannabe girlfriend Maudie Tutweiller from Beaumont, TX:
Maudie, thanks for the photo, I'm sure that lowdown coyote got what it deserved. Right now, being less than three months old, I'm not ready for a long term or long distance relationship. But I sent your photo to Cletus who I hear plans to go to stud real soon.

As time permits, I'll do my best to answer all your questions. But right now, I've got to work on my tan.

Thankful

Now that I'm turning ten weeks old and quite a bit wiser than I was when I left mother back in Kentucky, I've had a chance to think about life. Sometimes it gets me a bit down, and when it does, I want other people to know about it. But after a few yips and howls, I think about what a lucky hound I am.

First of all, I was born in the most beautiful place on earth, the hills of eastern Kentucky. My mother's a famous foxhound. She can outrun, out hunt and out grit all competition. I'm looking forward to the day when we can run down one of those stinking coyotes together. (For you PETA nuts, coyotes really do stink, take my word for it).

I never really got to meet my daddy, but if he looks anything like me, he's one handsome hound. My brother and two sisters taught me how to fight for my fair share, and how a good nip on the ear never hurt anybody (for very long, anyway).

I'm proud and thankful to be an AMERICAN Foxhound, not one of those foreign breeds with a name nobody can pronounce. My ancestors hunted with George Washington, the father of this great country. They ran at his side and ahead of the horses. They showed the way, and never led him astray. Just think what a country this would be, if we could get our leaders back on the right track again.

I'm thankful for the hunter who introduced my mom to my dad. He's the wisest man in Carter County. I'm thankful for the young fellow who fed us and made sure our heat lamp was working in the bitter cold weather. I'm especially grateful to the two young ladies who chased me all around the field when I made a prison break one afternoon (but to be honest, at the time, I wasn't that grateful).

My paws are tired and my tongue's hanging out, so I'll take a break, but I'm not done bein' grateful!