An Unwelcome Visitor

Holding the gun, my husband hands me the spotlight. It is 5:50 in the morning. My predawn walk with the three Border collies turned out badly. Those predawn walks can be delightful when the meteors shower, snow falls, or sweet curing hay hangs in the air. Sometimes, when rain pounds or the cold wind bites, they are miserable. Sometimes, like when Tag met the skunk or when I walked into the snowdrift blocking the driveway, they bring unpleasant surprises. The three dogs and I were several hundred feet from the house when we heard the panicked cries. My two Border collies darted toward the house. The foster dog, who was on leash, had no choice but to wait as I picked my way over the ice-covered driveway. When I came into the yard, the dogs were circling a dark figure on the ground. I called off the dogs, and the raccoon hobbled away to the safety of trees. After sending the dogs to their crates, I gave my husband his morning wake-up call. “There’s a coon in the yard,” I say. Live on a farm long enough and you dismiss the notion that all critters can live in harmony. If the coon stayed, the chickens were in danger. Minutes later, we are standing in the freezing drizzle. “Hold the spotlight behind me so I can see the sights,” my husband said. The gun pops. The coon twitches and falls to its side. I forget my husband’s instructions and let my finger slip off the “on” button. Darkness surrounds us.