The Fall brings chillier weather and neighborhood fires. No longer are we forced to shave our legs every other day, sometimes extending leg shaves by a week. Is that just me? Sorry, TMI. We love to have fires. It’s somewhat of an invitation for all surrounding neighbors to come and join us…..and bring alcohol.
Tonight was no different. As the adults sat around the fire, my son and 2 other boys ran around with their shirts off. Though you can’t see them, here is the ridiculous song they made up:
After the show was over, the boys decided to go in to watch a movie, leaving the adults to converse.
Just then, my husband asked, “did you hear that?”
“Yeah, I did. What the hell! I just told C that coyotes aren’t around here but what the hell?”
What we were hearing was a low, deep growl, coming from the side of the house.
“Where’s Leilah?” My neighbor instantly inquired, now concerned their dog would be eaten or that the growls were coming from her.
“Right here,” I said, pointing to the bulldog to my left.
GGRRRROOOWWWLLLLLLL…………..it came from the side of the house, again.
“Oh hell no!” I screamed in complete disbelief.
In a nanosecond, I assessed that the kids were safe, and if I wanted to survive this rabid dog, coyote or swamp monster, I needed to get inside STAT!
Fuck it! I ran into my house like the devil was chasing me….still holding my wine. I ran in, closed the sliding glass door and peered outside.
What I saw next was my neighbor M who was clearly spooking us…shaking hands with my husband.
‘Well played sir….well played,’ I thought.
I began to giggle and walk upstairs. If anyone deserved to be fooled it was me. When I looked in the mirror, I assessed the damage. I had wine in my ear, on my cheek, in my hair, all down my shirt, on my Fitbit, my jeans and my coat. Quickly, I stripped, grabbed a fresh pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I threw my wine stained garments in the washing machine, praying to the baby Jesus the little diamoniques on the shirt would not fall off during the wash.
I’m not mad. If anything, I’m impressed. Now that I look back on it, it’s hilarious that I ran like a moron into my house, clearly believing I was about to be mauled by a coyote.