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“He likes people, and he made no effort to eat Miss Kitty.”
A muscle in Dad’s jaw twitched. “Prove it.”
“Let me get dressed.” I threw back the covers.
“I’ll be waiting for you at the dog run.” Dad left.
I blew out a long breath. “That went well.”
Julie stared at me in disbelief. “You brought a coyote home?”
“Sorta.” I quickly got dressed.
Julie grabbed her jeans. “This I’ve got to see.”
Slipping on some flip-flops, I ran a brush through my hair and headed for the barn.
The sun peeped over the mountains, turning the morning sky from lavender to cotton candy pink.
“God, it’s not even five,” Julie groused.
“Tell me about it.” I cut through the orange grove and came to an abrupt stop. The door to the dog run was open and Mom was feeding Edgar bacon.
The coyote delicately took the food from her fingers and totally ignored Miss Kitty, who sat next to him.
Dad watched in disbelief. “Please tell me that’s not our breakfast.”
“Eat cereal. We have five boxes of the stuff,” Mom retorted.
Yikes, they were still at it. “How’s Edgar doing?”
“He’s been a perfect gentleman.” Mom fed him the last of the bacon and stood up.
“Edgar is such a good boy,” I cooed, petting him.
His tail wagged wildly.
“Coyotes can’t be domesticated,” Dad stated.
Mom shot him a dirty look. “Edgar, sit.”
He sat.
“Edgar, down.”
He dropped to the ground.
“Good boy,” Mom rubbed his ears.
I glanced at Mom’s vegetable garden. A jackrabbit was eating her lettuce. Gesturing at the rabbit, I commanded, “Get it, Edgar.”
He shot out of the kennel and pounced on the rabbit.
“Good boy, Edgar,” I cried.
Julie clapped loudly. “Way to go, Edgar.”
The coyote plopped down in the orchard and ate his catch.