They sat on the back porch as morning breathed a frosty zephyr across the weathered planking. The cold air stung the man's work and time-worn hands, but he didn't notice. He reached out and placed his hand on his best friend's shoulder. Sadie turned a smiling face to the man.
They shared their breakfast here, watching the stars blink out as the sun spread its amber mantle over the meadows and hills. In the fields, cattle shuffled closer together. When hungry calves called out to their mothers their breaths puffed out in misty plumes.
Sadie was a beautiful Border Collie and so smart Burt felt a great pride for her. She had been an anniversary gift from his late wife and Burt had grown to deeply love his ever-happy fur girl.
Shortly after their anniversary, Burt's wife became ill and passed away. Burt's world was a whirlwind of chaos and grief and during that time Sadie had become pregnant after a visit from a neighbor's free-roaming Australian Shepherd.
In the glow of dawn, he saw the coyote, low on the trail, watching them. It was the same every morning. Several calves had gone missing and Burt suspected coyotes, often called Prairie Wolves, were to blame. Burt began carrying a rifle whenever he was out with the cattle. He was too old to react fast enough to ward off a coyote attack and Sadie was not as quick to move out due to her pregnancy.
Her cumbersome weight notwithstanding, Sadie was always eager to make her daily rounds in the fields. She was protective of all in her charge, but with the calves she was especially vigilant.
After her work was done, Sadie would head out to the river on the back end of the property, near the woods. Burt wondered what she did there. Once, curious to find out, he had followed her. When Sadie spotted him she turned around and ran back to the ranch. He found her on the porch smiling. Burt chuckled, figured he wasn't meant to know.
Lush grass blanketed the banks under scrub oak, and lichen covered rocks of all sizes peppered the fields around the stream. She would leave in the late afternoon, but not until Burt gave her permission with a nod. Sadie then trotted off with a grin, her body wiggling excitedly as she trotted down the path that took her to the river.
Burt was out with the herd. The cattle were contentedly grazing and Burt took a deep breath of the loamy scented air. Sunlight splintered on the horizon as dusk settled into the hills. Over the backs of his cattle Burt's gaze searched for Sadie. He found her weaving around shrubs and boulders. She neared the crest of a hillock and was soon out of sight. It was then that Burt noticed movement on the same path. Threading its way more quickly than Sadie was able, the coyote followed.
Burt raised his rifle, set his aim on the gray animal and squeezed the trigger. The coyote cried out in pain and stumbled. Whimpering, the coyote reeled in circles, then fell and did not get up.
That night Burt was wide awake. He looked down at the end of the bed. Sadie's blanket was empty and cold. She had not returned. Sadie had shared his bed every night. Her warm body was comforting and he fell asleep listening to the gentle soughing of her breath. Felt the reassurance of her presence from the weight of her against his ankles and feet.
He stared out into the shadows of his bedroom. Moonlight dropped a sheet of silver on the floor 'neath the bedroom window. But Burt didn't notice. Tears obscured his vision. Grief and loneliness bruised his spirit.
The next morning he searched the hills for her. He found her body amidst tall grass. He reached out and touched her shoulder. All that had been embodied in the broken body below him--was gone. As he bent down to gather her up, deep furrowed wounds between her belly and flank caught his eye. Claw marks, from a big cat, most likely a cougar.
Strength left him and he collapsed next to his beloved friend. She had been ravaged, her belly torn open. The pups, so close to delivery, were gone. He lifted his hands up, clasped them at the back of his neck, dropped his head and wept.
He carried her home, wrapped her in her blanket from the bed and buried her out past the back porch.
Two months passed. One morning Burt found a pup on the porch's weathered planking. The sleepy pup tilted his head and chuffed a welcome. As Burt bent down to get a better look he heard the rustling of an animal in the nearby brush.
A coyote, and close enough to discern its sex--a female. She rocked back on her hind legs and pivoted to turn. Her right front leg was withered and she held it up as she trotted away. In the gray shadows of dawn he watched as she ribboned her way up the path that crested the hillock. The path that ran to the river. As she passed a rocky ledge, two coyote pups sprang out from their hiding place, fast on their mother's heels.
The pups looked to be the same age as the pup on his porch. And while they displayed all the physical traits of a coyote, the little one at his feet was a Border Collie mix and looked much like his mother, Sadie.
He had been wrong about the coyote. She hadn't studied them from the hill with malice. She had not scanned the ranch to scope out a meal, but to look for her friend. She had been waiting for Sadie, to come and play. In the two months following Sadie's death, he had lost 3 calves. But not to the female who had just left him, for she was too crippled now to bring down anything of substantial size.
He turned back to the pup. As the sun spread its shimmering cloak, a golden ray alit in the pup's blue eyes. He opened his mouth and smiled up at Burt. Burt cast one last look in the direction of the hills, then turned back to the pup, pulled him up, and said, "She has taken good care of you. I was wrong about her, perhaps I can make amends and start leaving food out for her and her young ones."
In the not too distant future. When the pup had grown lanky and frolicsome--the Prairie Wolf would return to the hillside. She would look to see if a playmate awaited her there, keeping company with the old man.
Copyright © by Kathy Pippig Harris
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