Why Is My Dog Smiling?

Why Is My Dog Smiling?

Every evening at dusk I call Smokey Joe, my 110 pound black Lab/Collie protector, inside to eat his supper and sleep on the soft dog-bed I spread down at night for him.

For the past week, he has been reluctant to come in. As soon as he eats, he goes to the door and gives me a big toothy smile. He has a sparkle in his eyes that tells me he has something going on outside he likes better than schmoozing with me and the cats. He was neutered at six months, so he is not supposed to be interested in girls, but he is showing signs he has been romping with a friend. He drives away other male dogs so his friend must be female. Last night when I brought him in, he was covered with bits of hay  that tells me he has been rolling around near the horse corrals.  

If you have read my stuff you know I live in a trailer in a remote horse camp on an Indian reservation. There are only three other trailers here, and none of these people have dogs.  There’s a house about a half a mile away that probably has dogs, but I’ve never seen any hanging around here, since their big hound, Yoube, died. I get a glimpse of a rooftop up the mountain to the west, and sometimes I hear barking from there, but I haven’t seen any strange dogs lately. The coyotes, on the other hand, are always nearby, lurking in the brush, or looking at my cats from a good vantage point up in the rocks.

Since he was about 10 months old and already a big dog, chasing coyotes has been Smokey’s life’s work. He protects the cats from them. At that time we lived in Outdoor World, a nice resort ten miles south of here, at a lower elevation. I used to feed the local pack of coyotes at good distance from the camp to lead them away, and to discourage them from preying on the cats and the small dogs campers let run free, unaware of the dangers.

The coyotes soon learned my schedule, and three or four would wait for me at the beginning of the trail to follow me like pet dogs. They stayed about 30 feet away as we went to the designated feeding place. Meanwhile another coyote would lead Smokey on a wild goose chase all over the mountainside while the others wolfed down the food I gave them.

I strongly suspect that after six years of close encounters with coyotes, Smokey Joe has struck up a friendship, maybe with a beguiling lady coyote. I suspect that chasing them has become a game they play. Smokey is now almost seven years old, middle aged for a dog, He is too fat, and he can’t run fast. When he was attacked six months ago by Jane’s rescued pit bulls, he was not able to protect himself well. Coyotes do kill and eat small dogs, and have been known to gang up on large dogs to do the same. I may be slandering innocent coyotes, but they are smart and tricky and maybe not very innocent. I think Smokey is playing a dangerous game.

I hate to be the cause of removing Smokey’s smile or that sparkle from his eyes, but I think for his own safety he will have to be tied up again. Tied up not only because of the coyote connection, but because Juan Eduardo Philippe, next door, has a new lady friend living with him who feeds Smokey tortillas and enchiladas. Here I am buying dietary food for Smokey, and she is giving him fatty treats. I’d talk to her about it, but she is shy.  She doesn’t speak much English, and I don’t want to intimidate her. She seems to be a really sweet and lady-like person. I think Eduardo my be thinking again of marriage.

Campers also give Smokey treats, even chicken bones. I know they are just being friendly, but cooked chicken bones, or his obesity is going to kill him, if the coyotes don’t do it first.

I guess my Smokey Joe has to be restricted. I always put him in the air-conditioned trailer when I leave, but I think he will also have to be tied up when I am home. I spend a lot of time engrossed in writing for Gather when I am not paying much attention to what is happening outside. So I will let Smokey run loose only when I am outside watching him, and keep him tied, or inside with me when he is not tied.

Poor Smokey. He is being killed with kindness by well-meaning folks, and will lose much of his freedom because of it. He will have to settle for howling from home when the coyotes sing that call of the wild.

As a fitting end to this article, the coyotes have just started a serenade, and all eight of my daughter’s dogs and Smokey are howling along with them. You should hear the din!