The Coyote House
When they moved in, reason moved out.
Millie paws at the door with enthusiasm. The first walk of the day is the best!
A vaguely alert but chipper Shannon trudges down the hallway, taking the leash off the coat rack as she passes. A minor struggle is required to hook up Millie as usual. Corgis are so short and wiggly. She ties up her multi-tone streaked hair, dons the aviator glasses, and heads out.
It’s a brisk April morning in a quiet north Portland neighborhood. The average home is half a million dollars and 100 years old. It’s a well-kept and generally quiet space in an otherwise lively city. The sun is just coming up, peeking through the trees overhead. Millie moves at a quick pace, nearly running to keep up with Shannon’s determined gait. They both enjoy moving with a purpose, even on what’s supposed to be a leisurely Sunday morning stroll.
Millie stops suddenly and sniffs with intention. It’s one of her favorite spots. This patch of easement grass is a local favorite of the resident canines. Shannon calls it the message board. Millie leaves a brief comment, and they continue their trek.
On the other side of the street, another pair on a morning walk approaches. An older man and a labrador mix of some kind. Millie pays them no mind. Shannon’s familiar with them both.
As the two begin to pass, the labrador jerks towards Millie and Shannon, barking and growling. Everyone but the lab is shocked. Shannon instinctively moves in between Millie and the other dog and begins to pick her up. Except the lab isn’t barking at Millie, it’s looking past them. Shannon spins around, just fast enough to catch a glimpse of a pointy ear moving out of sight in the living room of the house they’re standing in front of.
Shannon tippy-toes and stretches a bit to see more through the front window from the sidewalk. Curious. Not the dog freak out necessarily, but the house is an Airbnb property, and there’s no car in the driveway. Shannon is mildly concerned as she pauses. The man and his irritable dog across the street have moved on. She looks down toward Millie to find a corgi’s version of a shrug. It’s a smile. A lot like the same one she always wears. They continue their Sunday walk.
DAY 1 (Monday):
*News Report*
Steve: We’re here with you this evening, reporting on a local Airbnb in north Portland that’s been taken over by at least two or more coyotes.
Ellen: That’s right, Steve. Witnesses say the animals were spotted just... kind of hanging out in the living room of the single-family home.
Steve: Well, let’s hope the authorities can get the rascals out safely before any new renters show up!
Ellen: Let’s hope so, Steve! Jack Harrow is on the scene now. Jack, what do you make of all this?
Jack: Thanks, Ellen. We’re here in the Arbor Lodge neighborhood, where several people claim to have seen one or even several coyotes in the home. A few people have called Fish and Wildlife and Multnomah County Animal Control, but as yet, there’s no official response. I personally haven’t been able to see anything, just by looking through the windows.
Ellen: Thanks for the insights, Jack. Be safe out there!
Jack signs off with his usual “Stay weird, Portland!” and notices a small group of onlookers gathering as the police arrive.
The police cruiser pulls up to the front of the house. Two officers exit and begin unrolling the yellow tape. Jack approaches one of the officers.
“Hey! Are you here to arrest the coyotes?” he jokes while putting up half-hearted finger guns.
“What?...No. We’re cordoning off this area for your safety. Please stay back twenty feet,” The closest officer replies, coldly.
“I’m Jack Harrow, reporter for Channel Five!”
“Your mom must be proud.”
“She was! Hey, do you know what the next moves are? Do you think there’ll be a raid of some kind? Any ideas on when? ...Does the department even have a helicopter?”
“We’re just here to put the tape up. I don’t know anything else. Please stay back thirty feet,” he says in a scripted tone, looking the other direction.
“I thought it was twenty feet.”
“Now it’s thirty. Have a nice day.”
Shannon, on her way home for work, pulls around the corner and notices the commotion. She stops to talk to the police, rolling down the window.
“Hey! What’s going on?” Shannon casually shouts from halfway across the street.
The officers are finishing up. “There may be wild animals inside the house. Please stay back twenty feet.”
Jack interjects loudly. “They don’t know anything, and they told ME it was thirty feet!”
Shannon is instantly confused, “Wild animals?? What kind?”
“Possibly coyotes.” “Maybe five coyotes.” The officer and Jack say, speaking over each other.
“Coyotes,” Shannon affirms with a raised eyebrow. “In the house.”
“Possibly.” “Maybe five of them.” They again speak in staggered unison.
“Someone’s called animal control or Fish and Wildlife, then,” Shannon counters.
The officer and Jack glance at each other. The officer says, “It’s being handled. Just please stay away from the house.” Jack remains silent this time and gives Shannon an awkward grimace.
Shannon mumbles something profane under her breath as she continues home.
Jack watches the officers take one last survey of the property and leave without comment. He considers crossing the tape to get a better look as he watches a small group of people gathered across the street from the house. It’s all speculation at this point, and there are still too many questions. He checks his phone to see who’s been contacted and who has yet to reply. Everyone.
Back at Shannon’s house, she’s changing into her comfy clothes and footwear, getting ready for the afternoon walk with Millie. It’s nice to get out of the office shoes and jeans. Not like she has to dress up to be a software engineer, but the boss did once give her a sideways look for the sweatpants and Crocs she wore on a Friday. Sometimes the trend setters don’t trend. Millie gets increasingly amped for the walk as Shannon pulls her hair into a ponytail, slips on her Skechers and lets her mind drift into the new weirdness.
Coyotes have been a recent passion of hers. Starting as a necessary interest when she and Millie were stalked a couple of years prior. A minor scare on an early morning walk now has her happily mired in coyote activism. She’s anxious to learn more about the house and why coyotes might be taking up residence. Millie is anxious too, but for more corgi-related reasons.
Heading toward the house and about halfway down the block, Shannon can see the police tape fluttering in the evening breeze. She suddenly realizes the recon mission she had planned is officially a terrible idea with Millie in tow. Her plucky enthusiasm isn’t a substitute for the fact that she’s still very short and food-sized. How the coyotes got in and how quickly they could get out is still a mystery. It’s too risky to bring Millie in close.
Shannon crosses to the other side of the street and walks to the raised berm on the corner, in the hopes of seeing something through the living room window from a higher vantage. Sure enough, Shannon sees a set of ears peek out over the back of the sofa in the living room. Then a second and a third. Waiting a few moments, and it’s clear there are several animals inside the house. Shannon looks down at Millie and receives the obligatory grin. She’ll need to come back alone so she can get closer and confirm they are coyotes, and hopefully see how many. Walking back home, the thought does cross her mind: Just reporting the occupation should be enough for animal control, the Urban Coyote Project, and Fish and Wildlife, should they get involved.
She wants to know for herself, though. It’s irritating that the media is already here and providing commentary, having no more information than she does. Shannon returns to the house after the media and the neighbors leave, so she can get a head count in peace.
DAY 2 (Tuesday evening)
Shannon rounds the corner on the way home and notices the news crew is back, along with a growing number of neighbors gossiping on the sidewalk across from the house. She notices a reporter talking to one of the neighbors, parks the car, and approaches. “So has animal control come by yet?” She interjects.
Jack perks up “Hi, I’m Jack! Jack Harrow with Channel Five!”
“Hi.” Shannon is instantly put off by Jack’s gleeful demeanor. There’s an awkward pause as Shannon repeats the question. “So, has animal control come by yet?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t think so,” Jack replies, “something about the mayor wanting to make a statement, maybe.”
“Why would the mayor need to make a statement about coyotes in a...never mind.”
“You seem really concerned. Are you an activist or something?”
“No...I mean, not really. I just try and do my part to educa...” Shannon suddenly notices one of the neighbors holding a “Free Wile-E!” sign.
She’s distracted by the odd atmosphere growing in the crowd as she introduces herself. “I’m Shannon Faks. I live down the block.”
“So you’re a teacher or something?” Jack continues.
“What?”
“You mentioned education. You’re a teacher?”
“I’m a software engineer; I just happen to be a coyote enthusiast. I work with the Urban Coyote Project sometimes. They’re a community outreach that studies the local coyote population and educates the public on how to coexist with them.”
“That’s fascinating! Have you had a chance to get close to the house? Have you seen anything?” Jack prods with enthusiasm.
Shannon cautiously replies, “Ah...Yes. I did. I counted seven of them. They seem ok, given the...”
“HA! Seven!” Jack laughs. “Wow! Ok, let’s ah ...Can we get Shannon mic’d up?” he gestures to his cameraman.
A swift panic comes over Shannon. “Wait, what? What’s happening?”
Jack reassures her, “No, it’s fine! I just want to do a quick interview if you don’t mind. It’s not live or anything.”
Shannon reluctantly agrees and manages to give a concise, impassioned speech about wildlife conservation and setting healthy boundaries with the local coyotes. Jack was patient and encouraging during the interview. She felt heard and left the experience feeling reassured of the situation and reaffirmed in her cause.
*News Report*
Steve: We’re here with you this evening, reporting on the local Airbnb in north Portland that’s been taken over by a pack of coyotes, and we have an update.
Ellen: That’s right, Steve. Jack Harrow was on the scene and managed to confirm that there are several coyotes occupying the house, and as yet, no one knows why. Jack, what can you tell us about the animals? Do we know how many there are?
Jack: Yes. Thanks, Ellen! I spoke with local activist Shannon Fox, and she was very helpful.
*Interview snippet of Shannon* “...coyotes are great...”
Jack: She went on to say that there are indeed seven coyotes in the house, but she was unable to explain how they managed to get inside or how they might get out. She also couldn’t say why the Airbnb owner hasn’t been contacted or when they could show up.
Ellen: Oh. Does Ms. Fox know the owners of the property?
Jack: Not that I know of.
Ellen: Well, thanks, Jack! And send a hearty Channel Five thanks to Ms. Fox. The coyotes are lucky to have her. The name suits the mission!
Jack: Will do, and it sure does! Stay weird Portland!
DAY 5 (Friday evening)
Shannon and Millie head out for their 6 PM walk. The news crew is still at the house but packing up, and the crowd across the street has grown. The weekend will likely bring even more people. There still hasn’t been any word from animal control or anyone else, for that matter. Shannon has been in contact with the Urban Coyote Project all week, but so far, there’s been no substantive action by any authority. Shannon is becoming increasingly frustrated, thinking back over the course of the strangest week she’s ever known. The media, the growing crowd of looky-loos, the mayor’s office getting involved for some reason, and just this morning, PETA decided to weigh in on social media. They posted an AI drawing of coyotes in a cage and somehow likened the whole thing to keeping pets.
All of this on top of Jack and his reporter friend calling her Shannon “Fox,” butchering her interview into a sound bite, AND somehow marking her as some kind of authority. All in five minutes. And now everyone’s calling it the “Coyote House.” This has indeed become a circus.
Shannon spots Jack as he’s about to get in the news van and marches toward him.
“Hey!!...”
“Oh, Hi Shannon! How’s the game coming along?” Jack interrupts in bubbly fashion.
“What!?” “What game... Why did you delete my whole interview? You also screwed up my name!” It’s Faks! With a K S!”
“Whoa, hang on... One thing at a time. I thought you were a software designer or something.”
Shannon can feel her blood pressure spiking.
“It’s ‘software engineer’...I’m not...None of that matters!”
“Of course it matters. Have you seen the job market for video games? Thousands of people get fired, like, every month now it seems. You made the right career choice dodging that bullet!”
As her left eye begins to twitch on its own, Shannon realizes it’s probably best not to press Jack any further. Getting him to focus is apparently as futile as herding cats...or coyotes for that matter. She takes a short deep breath.
“Have you heard anything about a response? Where’s animal control?”
Jack checks his phone, spots something, and immediately perks up
“Did you see the meme PETA posted. Savage, huh?” “I don’t agree with everything they say bu...”
Shannon bites her upper lip and narrows her eyes at Jack.
“Ah...Yeah,” Jack resumes, “Uh…It looks like a specialist is being brought in from. Eh, hmm. I think it’s pronounced Cro-A-TI-stan. A breakaway republic that used to be eastern Croatia.”
Shannon is baffled. “We don’t have coyote specialists here?...in the states?”
“I think he was free. There’s been quite a few budget cuts, Shannon. Times are tough for everyone. Be thankful you didn’t take that game developer job.”
“I was never offered a...oh my God... never mind. Thanks, Jack.”
Jack hops up into the van. “Have a good night, Shannon! Bye doggie!”
Shannon looks down at Millie and squints to see wide eyes and possibly a look of concern. “Yeah. I don’t like it either, Millie.” A corgi smile is the only reply.
Day 6 (Saturday morning)
A crowd is already forming across the street from the house as Millie pulls on the leash to investigate ASAP. Making their way down the block, they can see the news crew is already there. Shannon had spent an hour that morning making calls to Animal Control and the Urban Coyote Project, only to be endlessly frustrated by what’s become a bureaucratic nightmare.
So much attention has amassed so quickly. All the authorities that should be taking action are kept in perpetual holding patterns, as one interest group after another insists on weighing in. The mayor’s office either feels compelled enough or intimidated enough to give everyone a voice in the matter. As a result, seven coyotes have been locked in an Airbnb for a week, and no one has done anything about it. Well, nothing except hire a free biologist from a breakaway Croatian republic.
Shannon and Millie approach the first dozen people. She can see a sign that reads “They Were Here First!” and another, “Free Wile-E!” That guy came back. Listening in on some conversation, Shannon can tell this is already reaching new levels of absurdity. People are debating police raids and whether or not the mayor will show up. Mostly, people just want a chance to see a coyote peek out the window and get a selfie. There’s someone already setting up a “booth” that provides the optimal angle to view the front window from across the street. So far, the police tape around the house, which extends over the sidewalk, has been respected. Although with enough people and no authority, that thin barrier of civility is likely to be tested.
“Hey Shannon!” Jack abruptly shouts at the back of her head.
“Geeze! Jack. Wh...What is that smell?” Shannon is simultaneously startled and disgusted.
“Oh yeah, I figured that maybe if I sprayed myself with coyote attractant, I could get one of them to look through the window.”
“Jack, that’s coyote piss.”
“No! I...checked the bottle, it says ‘Artificial.’”
“Jack, you still smell like piss, though. Like... a lot. How much did you use?”
Jack scoffs, “I’m wearing the appropriate amount.”
“I don’t think there’s an appropriate amount to wear.”
Shannon takes a step back with her sleeve pressed over her nose and muffles, “So when is this... expert supposed to show up? Have you heard anything?”
“He should be here Monday. Hey! I was going to interview some of your neighbors. Did you want in on this?”
“No, I’m good. Thanks,” Shannon retorts through her sleeve.
Millie sniffs at Jack, squats over his foot, and relieves herself.
“Hey!” Jack gives a scolding look to a cheerful Millie, then turns to make his way into the crowd
“Good girl.” Shannon winks at her hero and begins her own assessment of how a pack of coyotes gained entry into the house in the first place. In the background, she can hear the groans of disgust from onlookers as a urine-soaked reporter attempts to get interviews.
Shannon takes Millie down the street further to see if another side of the house might be visible. A wooden fence and landscaping obscure everything except the front of the house, so the only way to see inside is the same front window she spied through before.
She ponders to herself, “They either circumvented the fence or the front door, and they don’t have thumbs... The fence it is then. Maybe the back door is open, but they can’t get back over or under the fence ?...No. Something’s...”
A collective gasp rises from the crowd as Shannon turns to see Jack in the middle of the road with his phone held high, and the cameraman aiming toward the house. It looks like Jack got his pictures. In four seconds, everyone’s on the road trying to maneuver their phones for an optimal angle. Shannon can see a couple of flashes of ears through the front window.
She has a sudden ethical dilemma. Does she tell Jack that spraying himself with coyote urine was a great idea?
The following day would bring a similar crowd and a police presence.
DAY 8 (Monday evening)
*News Report*
Steve: We’re here with you this evening, and we have an update on the local Airbnb occupied by a pack of coyotes.
Ellen: That’s right, Steve. The first clear video of the pack, shown here, was taken on Saturday. But since then, the coyotes have been relatively quiet and hidden away while crowds continue to gather.
Steve: Yes, it seems that Saturday’s photo op was the only one we may see for a while, but we do have new opportunities to learn from the coyotes. Vitaly Lovensky is here with us, and he’ll be ...attempting to make contact with the ...alpha? Is that right?
Vitaly Lovensky appears on a split screen.
Vitaly: Ello Steve, that is correct! Coyotes do have a hierarchical structure, though not as rigid as their...a wolfen cousins, Ha!
Steve: And what do you hope to gain from meeting with this “alpha”
Vitaly: There is much we can learn from him! This is a great opportunity!
Steve: ...Ah...Yes! Maybe you can get them to leave the house as well?
Vitaly: Oh! That too, of course! Of course!
Ellen: Well, we look forward to your reports, Mr. Lovensky!
Vitaly: And to you as well, Ellen!
The sun sets on another Monday evening, as a modest RV slowly makes its way down the street from the coyote house and parks at the street corner, with the best vantage point to the home’s front window.
DAY 9 (Tuesday)
Shannon is on her way out to work and notices that a small encampment has either formed across the street from the house, or everything that was set up over the weekend is just still there. A portable canopy, two small tents, a table, and a couple of camping chairs. There’s also an RV that’s moved in. It’s parked at the end of the block. As she drives by, a squat balding man emerges from the RV looking like a college professor plucked from a campus in 1978. He waves at Shannon as she passes, and she offers a hesitant wave back. She notices a police cruiser going the other direction towards the man by the RV. Before she rounds the corner out of the neighborhood, she sees the cruiser stopped in the street, and they’re having a conversation.
Work isn’t enough of a distraction from the increasing chaos in Shannon’s neighborhood. She spends half her time doing research on this new “expert” the city has invited, and what she finds is bizarre.
Vitaly Lovensky isn’t just a biologist, although that’s his current profession. He was, for many years, a chemist who dabbled in genealogy. He was also investigated several times by the Croatian authorities for misappropriation of grant money, and there are even some vague accusations of fraud, but with no details.
Shannon’s wonder is only overshadowed by her utter astonishment as to how this person ended up in her neighborhood to study a home full of coyotes. There’s no obvious Portland connection and nothing about who hired him. It’s like someone at city council just called him up, and he hopped on a plane. No other details. Even a call to the mayor’s office was met with a scripted response regarding public safety and a “commitment to transparency.” When Shannon inquired about the status of the house, a similar non-answer was offered, along with Shannon getting to leave her phone number to receive updates. Now for the seventh time.
The research into Mr. Lovensky left even more questions than answers, and the mayor’s office was once again unhelpful. The work day ended with disappointment…and a pile of actual work she never got to. It’s time to go home.
Shannon pulls into the neighborhood to find a small crowd and a significant police presence. It looks like Jack is interviewing Vitaly as if something is about to happen. She watches down the block as she goes inside to change shoes and get Millie for her walk.
By the time Shannon comes back outside, the interview is already underway.
Jack is more bubbly than usual as he prods Vitaly for details.
“This is all very fascinating! What’s the plan here? You said something about communicating with one of them?”
“Yes!” Vitaly replies with a beaming smile.
“I’ll use this device to train the alpha of the pack!” He gestures to a large pad he’s carrying. Several large buttons adorn the flat surface of the red and green object. It resembles a thick cafeteria tray and has what appears to be the remnants of a decal, now just white paper film stuck to the side.
“Looks like it’s seen a lot of action! How does it work?”
“I’ll train with the animal and assign words to the buttons! Eventually, he’ll speak to me by pressing the buttons with his paws!” Vitaly presses on one of the buttons, and an awkward robotic voice says [GO] “See? Like that!”
“That’s amazing! How long will it take? Can I get an interview?” Jack laughs.
“Ha! Soon, soon! We hope, yes? No, it may take some time. Fortunately, the city has provided my RV, and the homeowner has given me the keys.”
“That’s great! It looks like you’re getting ready for your first trip inside the house.”
“Yes!” Vitaly glances over. “I’ll be attempting the first session soon.”
“I’ll let you get to it then. Thanks for your time, Mr. Lovensky! Ellen, back to you.”
Shannon walks up as Jack is signing off, and Vitaly is preparing his device on a portable table set up near the RV.
“So, he’s going inside?” Shannon peers over in Vitaly’s direction.
“Yeah! Isn’t it great? He’s going to talk to them!”
“Why?”
“Ya know, Shannon. Sometimes opportunities come along in life, and if you don’t savor them, they might just savor you.” Jack gives a knowing look as he taps his forehead.
“Uh huh. This is stupid.”
“Negative attitudes don’t help anyone, Shannon.”
“I stand by my commentary.”
Vitaly walks up to the front door of the house, pauses to listen for a moment, and then enters. He closes the door behind him as the crowd’s chatter comes to a halt.
A moment passes. Then a muffled cry comes from inside. “AHHH! NO! NO! Down! Get back! AHH! No! No!”
Vitaly whips the front door open as his device flies out of his free hand and into the grass. He slams the door shut behind him and stumbles down the front steps. The crowd gasps and murmurs. Attempting a mid-stride retrieval of the communication pad, he face-plants into the grass. The crowd lurches forward into the street. Phones are held high to record the moment. Jack and Shannon rush over to help him up.
“Are you OK?” Shannon asks gingerly.
“Yes!... No, it’s fine. I’m fine,” they just scared me a bit. HA!” Vitaly awkwardly rushes to his feet.
“Are you sure you don’t want to get checked out?”
Vitaly looks towards his bleeding hand, “Oh No... No, it’s fine! Fine. Just a scratch. Part of the job.”
“No....That,” “Your leg,” Jack and Shannon respond in unison. “Yeah, your leg,” Jack restates.
“Ah! My pants! No!” Vitaly examines his torn pant cuff and bleeding leg.
*News Report*
Steve: Here with you this evening: A local Airbnb, recently hosted by a pack of coyotes and affectionately known as the “Coyote House,” had a new visitor. They were not well-received.
Ellen: That’s right, Steve. Vitaly Lovensky, a biologist hired by the city, was attempting to make contact with the coyotes when he was allegedly attacked and had to be taken to the hospital with non-life-threatening injuries. While not available for an interview, he did state that this was the first of many trips to the house, and his mission remains unchanged.
Steve: Well, let’s hope for a speedy recovery so he can get back to his mission.
Ellen: We’re all hoping for that, Steve. In related news, the winners of the “Name The Coyotes” contest are in!
Steve: That’s great! What have we got?
Ellen: Well, since we don’t know and can’t assume the genders of the coyotes, they all had to be gender neutral names, except for the alpha male and female, the primary breeding pair.
Steve: Makes sense to me. Sure.
Ellen: At any rate, ladies first! We’ll start with the alpha female, “Stevie Nix.” Then we have “Snickers,” “Pawly,” “Wile-E,” Of course. Then “Puddles” “Master Yote” and finally... the king canid, “Mr. Whiskers.”
Steve: So it’s Mr. Whiskers and Stevie Nix leading the pack in the Coyote House. Fantastic!
The following weeks would see Vitaly return to the house twenty more times. The few days he missed were due to repeated injuries he sustained while attempting to train Mr. Whiskers. Although he seemed upbeat throughout the process. The crowd across the street grew into a kind of catch-all demonstration for various causes, creating an eclectic mix of press, police, street vendors, activists, and onlookers. You could buy t-shirts, clever signs to wave around, and a “Coyote Cone.” For five dollars, you get a single scoop of vanilla ice cream with root beer candies adorning the top to resemble scat. You can also pose for a selfie in the photo booth, where the angle is just right to see the Coyote House in the background. For a while, people would howl together to try and get a reaction from the pack inside while getting their photo.
Several activists and neighbors, along with those representing the Urban Coyote Project, took issue with the activity and eventually convinced the police to put a stop to it. That was the first time activists in the community felt like they had a say. It only took four fist fights and two arrests for the issue to be taken seriously, but hard-won victories are victories all the same.
DAY 34 (Saturday)
Shannon and Millie head out for a morning walk toward the house and the now fully developed carnival across the street. Jack, as usual, is interviewing people in the crowd. Several attendees are standing in the street up against the police tape, taking selfies with the house in the background. Vendors are selling ice cream, hot dogs, and homemade swag to commemorate the phenomenon. The “Free Wile-E” t-shirts are a hot seller as usual. The local art community even showed up, attempting to capture the moment through various sketches and paintings. The crisis had breathed life into its own being to create something more. A unique facet of culture born through willpower alone.
Jack notices Shannon’s approach. “Hey, kiddo! Welcome to the party. Been a few days! Isn’t this great!”
“There’s more...flags than I would have expected. There’s a lot of flags,” Shannon squints at what looks like Arabic written on a cardboard sign.
“I thought you were an activist, Shannon. You’re supposed to like free speech.”
Shannon’s typical glare in response is now her trademark, and she’s not happy about it. “You finally smell normal, Jack. Good Job”
“Thanks! It’s called Pies Vedres. It’s a cologne of the month.”
“Splendid. Did the genius get a coyote to talk yet?”
Jack checks his phone. “It looks like he managed to get several words and one phrase worked out.”
“A phrase?”
“Sort of… Vitaly taught him ‘LOL’.” .... “Shannon, you’re making that face again.”
“This whole thing is insane! It’s been over a month, and no one even knows how they got in there!”
“You should trust the process, Shannon. The negotiations are going well. Vitaly says he’s learning a lot from Mr. Whiskers.”
“So where is he anyway?”
“Oh…Vitaly? Yeah. He’s uh..at the hospital again.”
Shannon takes a deep inhale and glances over to see a face-painted person holding one side of a large “Mr.Whiskers for President” banner. She’s had enough.
“Alright, I’ve had enough. I need to figure out how they got in there and see if I can’t find a way to let them out.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Shannon. The cops will see you and, you might have heard, there’s a pack of coyotes in there.”
Shannon is undeterred. “No. This ends. The cops are on rotation. I’ve been watching them for weeks. At around seven PM, there’s a gap of about twenty minutes. That should be long enough to get close to the house and get a good look. You keep an eye out for the co…”
“Oh! I can make a bird noise. Or a coyote noise. I’ll howl!”
“Or you could just say ‘it’s the cops!’”
Jack suddenly seems less than chipper as he scans the crowd. “Yeah, OK.”
“It was a good story, Jack. You…got a lot of air time out of it.”
“Yeah, it was all going to be over soon anyway. Vitaly’s not going to be walking for a while, and the house isn’t wheelchair accessible.”
“What??!”
“Oh. Yeah. Mr. Whiskers got him on the achilles this time.”
“What??!”
“Wait. No. I think Stevie Nix did it.”
Shannon is once again baffled at what she’s witnessing, and wonders to herself how many levels of absurdity can be piled onto one quiet neighborhood.
“Just meet me behind the house at seven. We’ll start by taking a look at the fence.”
Millie sniffs at Jack’s shoe before he quickly jerks it away and goes back to the news van.
A few hours later, twilight sets in over the neighborhood. Jack is pacing in the alley on the side of the house. He doesn’t look casual.
“You don’t look casual,” Shannon smirks as she walks up.
“I’m a reporter, Shannon, not a.... What are we doing again?”
“I’m going into the backyard to see if I can find out how the pack got in the house. You’re keeping an eye out for the police.”
“Right. I’m abetting. Got it,” Jack remarks with a flat tone.
Shannon slowly examines the wooden fence around the back half of the property. The dense shrubbery makes it hard to see if it’s intact as it looks. A few strategic pokes and nudges later, Shannon’s foot no longer touches the bottom of the fence. There’s a hole behind a bush.
“Jack, I found something. There’s a break in the fence. Keep an eye out.”
Before Jack can respond, Shannon is already working her way into the landscaping. She finds a couple of the boards broken out at the bottom of the fence, providing a convenient, if snug passage. Emerging on the other side, Shannon can see that it’s a fairly worn path, with several signs of regular use. Primarily, the flattened bushes near the hole. It’s clearly visible from the yard side.
Shannon turns toward the house and immediately spots the doggy door. She listens for a moment before slowly approaching. The sudden realization that a coyote could pop their head through without warning quickens her pulse. Shannon positions herself, back to the house next to the door. She gently pushes on the flap and feels resistance. She presses further, to the sounds of paper and cardboard. The first thing she can see is a pizza box, then another, multiple food containers, and bags.
Shannon hears the click of several nails on the floor inside as she slowly pulls her hand back and lets the doggy door close. She makes her way out of the yard and into the alley to find Jack.
“It’s blocked.” Shannon quickly states.
“Hey, you made it! What’s blocked?”
“They got in through a doggy door, but it looks like it’s blocked from the inside…with pizza boxes, and a bunch of other trash.”
“Trash? How? Why?”
“I think people have been feeding them by shoving food through the doggy door.”
“What? Why?”
“I don’t know…Maybe they think they’re helping. It looks like it’s been piling up for a while.”
Shannon and Jack make their way to the front of the house. As Jack scans the area for police, Shannon quickly approaches the front living room window and looks in. Several coyotes are lounging around in the living room, most of them passed out. Two in the kitchen are ripping apart a pizza box. The pile of debris blocking the doggy door in the back of the house is barely visible, but confirmed.
“They look cozy.” Jack says loudly at the back of Shannon’s head.
“Gah! Jack…They’re not …‘cozy,’ they’re carb-crashing. We have to get them out somehow.”
Jack furrows his brow at Shannon, and they exchange dueling sneers. He looks up and breaks the stalemate, “The cops are here.”
They casually yet swiftly leave the front yard, duck the police tape, and make their way over to the crowd as the police cruiser parks in front of the house.
Shannon surveys the front of the house, in deep thought. “Can I count on you, Jack?”
“Me? Sure. I have all the moral support you could need.”
“I mean to help me get the coyotes out.”
“...Reporters aren’t supposed to be the news, Shannon. We just report it.”
“Ah, and none of this… ‘spectacle’ had anything to do with your coverage?”
“Hey, I didn’t feed em all those pizzas. It’s not like we have CNN budgets over here.”
Jack scoffs, watching the Coyote Cone vendor pack up for the day.
“Fine. But I’m not doing anything to upset the cops. You wanna fight em, that’s on you.”
“What? I’m not going to fight the police. Just…I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Day 35 (Sunday morning)
Shannon has already been out once with Millie. This time, she’s headed down the block without her. She’s not about to endanger her girl over an act of…something.
She’s still not totally sure what she’s going to do, how she’s going to do it, or what the expectations really look like. The unrealistic hope of a plan, arising from a mostly sleepless night, flittered away when the alarm clock went off. What she does have is caffeinated sleep deprivation and a month’s worth of frustrations to take out on the situation. So it should be fine.
Jack is standing with one of the neighbors as Shannon approaches. She gives a side eye and a subtle gesture for him to come have a word in private.
He saunters over with his usual brand of confidence.
“Well, good morning! How’s Shannon treating the world on this beautiful day?”
“Hey.” She replies, blowing a stray hair from her cheek.
“Oh wow, you look terrible. You should really get more rest. Or at least some coffee.”
“No, I’m fine. I think I have a plan.”
“Plan? Plan for wha…oh. Yeah. You’re still serious about that, huh.”
“Of course I am, and you’re helping.”
“Doesn’t sound like something I’d say, but alright. What have you got?”
“See the officer closest to the front door? You interview him, while I sneak in behind him and open the front door.”
“That’s your plan??! Just open the door?!”
“SSsshhHH! Quiet…geeze! Yes…The door should still be unlocked.”
“Why would the door be unlocked?”
“You were here the last time they took Vitaly to the hospital, right? Did they lock the door when they all left?”
“That’s…a good question. I don’t know. I don’t recall seeing anyone make a fuss about it. But…if the doors unlocked…oh.. never mind.”
“What?”
“Oh, I was about to say, heh. If it’s unlocked, why don’t the coyotes just let themselves out but…”
“They don’t have thumbs.”
“Yeah, they don’t have thumbs…Wait. What if the officer doesn’t want to be interviewed?”
“Oh, c’mon! When was the last time Jack Harrow took ‘hell no’ for an answer?”
“Last week at a Wendy’s…I don’t wanna talk about it.” Jack peers over at the front of the house, and the officer standing behind the police tape in the yard. “There is one more thing you might not have considered.”
“What’s that?”
“I hear there’s a pack of wild animals in that house.”
Shannon’s response is muted as she narrows her gaze at the front door.
“Ok, let’s do this.”
“Oh. You mean now. Like, right now.”
“Yes.”
Jack looks toward the officer in the yard and takes a deep inhale. His partner is by the patrol car parked on the street. A short exhale as he casually approaches the police tape marks the moment. He wants to look back at Shannon but reluctantly commits, smiling as he gives a half-nod to the officer. The officer gives a closed-lip smile and nods back.
“Hiya! How’s everything going today?” Jack waves.
“You have to stay back thirty feet, Jack.”
Stopping abruptly. “Oh, yeah! Yeah, I know. I was just curious. Did you want to do an interview? Uh,..This whole thing has gone on for so long, the station was asking if I could get a law enforcement perspective…from someone in the field. What do you think?”
The officer takes a couple steps towards Jack, presents a curious head tilt, and offers a “whynotish” expression.
“Yeah, I guess so. Is it live?”
Both men approach the police tape boundary, and Jack assures the officer.
“Oh!... No, we’ll get you mic’d up, but we can go over the questions first. Then do the interview.” Jack looks back at the cameraman to wave him over. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name, officer.”
“It’s Mark. Mark Richer.”
“Ah. Officer Richer! Nice to meet you!”
Shannon bolts underneath police tape, ten feet away from Jack, and sprints to the front door.
“Hey!” Officer Richer quickly spins towards Shannon, in pursuit as she approaches the front stoop. Jack instinctively gives chase as well.
Shannon feels a heavy hand crash onto her shoulder, and she collapses down in an effort to dodge the grasp. With a short jump, she lunges at the front door, smacking the knob with a glancing swipe.
Officer Richer has Shannon by the tail of her hoodie as they both slump over the front steps. He tries to regain his footing to get another grasp on Shannon, but his leg is stuck. Looking over his shoulder, he sees Jack on the ground as well, hanging onto his ankle.
“Hey let go!”
“I’m trying to help you up!” Jack improvises. Pulling on Officer Richer’s leg.
“No you’re not! Let go of my leg!”
Shannon takes another swipe at the doorknob and gets it to unlatch. Pushing the door open as she falls onto the threshold.
Jack’s eyes widen while releasing his grip on Richer’s ankle.
“...Hey Shannon?…”
She looks back down the front steps to see the paralyzed expressions of two men.
“Yeah, Jack?”
“Is that Mr. Whiskers?”
Shannon turns to look at the wide open entry she’s now lying in. A coyote nose gives a sniff mere feet from her face.
Jack swiftly moves past the officer and grabs a handful of Shannon’s hoodie. “C’mon,” he insists with a stern whisper.
Shannon begins shimmying backwards down the steps. “Slowly, Jack. Let’s just…don’t startle him.”
Jack and Shannon back their way to the middle of the yard. Officer Richer gets to his feet and begins backing up with his sidearm drawn.
Jack and Shannon cross the police tape and back into the street. The crowd is eerily quiet, alternating between selfies and high-angle video capture.
*News Report*
Steve: Good morning, we are here with you live from the Coyote House! It appears that the coyotes have been released!
Ellen: That’s right, Steve. Moments ago, local activist Shannon Fox successfully infiltrated the house after a brief altercation with the police and our own Jack Harrow. The front door is now wide open, and it appears that Mr. Whiskers is emerging from the home.
Steve: And do we have confirmation that it is, in fact, Mr. Whiskers on screen now, exiting the house?
Ellen: Not that I know of, Steve…It looks like he’s being followed by several others in the pack. They appear to be filing out of the house one by one, as the crowd looks on.
Steve: That’s fascinating. Do we know the impact of this new development, a pack of coyotes now descending on Portland,... how this might affect the local economy?
Ellen: It’s hard to say, Steve. We’ll certainly be keeping an eye on the situation. Oh! One of the coyotes appears to be interested in a place on the front lawn… Yes, it seems to be settling in for…a nap? Possibly?
The news crew continues their coverage while the crowd is now virtually silent, recording and live-streaming the event.
Jack is reporting live: “...and it appears that Master Yote has decided to take a bit of a siesta on the front lawn. Not surprising. Celebrity is exhausting work! I would… Oh wait. What’s this? One coyote…” Jack crouches down and contorts his head to get the lowest sightline possible. “Yes, that could be Stevie Nix. She seems to have taken an interest in something near the crowd.”
Stevie slowly approaches a group of people near the Coyote Cone stand, her nose carefully testing the air ahead.
They back away, clearing a path. At the end of the parted crowd is the Coyote Cone vendor, backed up against his folding table. Stevie seems very interested in him as she approaches. He winces. Watching the coyote come closer, he reaches down toward the table to secure his newly delivered sub sandwich still in its paper sheath. Stevie has the same idea and grabs the other end.
They lock eyes. Stevie gently tightens her jaws around the sandwich, and the vendor holds fast. Stevie glances around and allows her ears to complete a full sensory sweep of the area before fixing on the vendor again. He looks over at Shannon, who can only offer a rapid head shake and a horrified expression. The vendor lets go, and Stevie wins her prize.
The crowd parts further as the coyote trots off with her new sandwich.
Shannon reaches into her pocket, retrieves a whistle, and gives three sharp blows. The crowd gasps. Stevie hops, then looks back at Shannon. With her stolen lunch undisturbed, she casually strolls down the street to join the rest of the pack already dispersing into the neighborhood. One of the officers climbs into the patrol car, puts on the lights, and begins slowly following the pack, occasionally hitting the horn and siren. Master Yote, unfazed by the whistle blows or anything else, continues napping on the coyote house lawn. An ear twitch is their only commentary.
Shannon is simultaneously disappointed and relieved. She expresses a deep sigh as Jack approaches.
“What was the whistle for?”
Shannon glares at the dispersing crowd.
“It’s for hazing. Or it’s supposed to be.”
“What’s that?”
“How have you been covering this story for a month and not know what hazing is?”
“OH! Oh yeah. Right, the deterrent stuff you talked about in that first interview. Where you create healthy boundaries with the wildlife, for the mutual benefit, and whatnot. I…don’t think we did any of those things.”
“No, we didn’t.”
“Well, there’s only one thing left to do now, I guess.”
“Go home?”
“Go in the house.”
“What? Why?”
Jack smiles, “ ‘Why’ she says. Why not? Come on! All that BS we’ve gone through and you’re not even curious? Look, one of the cops is ‘escorting’ the pack out of the neighborhood and the other one is….dealing with whatever’s happening over there.”
An argument has broken out near the selfie booth, and the only officer on scene is attempting to defuse the situation. The door to the house is still open, and no one is watching. Jack and Shannon casually duck the police tape and stride up to the front door. They give a glance at the commotion across the street before entering.
The interior is in various states of disarray and damage. The cushion filling from the living room sofa looks to have been shredded and repurposed into several smaller bedding piles. It also smells like several non-housebroken animals have been living there. ”Yeah,..I don’t know what else I was expecting…” Jack muffles through his sleeve, while surveying the living room. “Reminds me of college.”
Shannon notices the pile of delivery boxes and trash blocking the back door. A month’s worth of “coyote aid” that trapped them in here. Then she notices what looks like a tripod leg poking out of a debris pile on the other side of the room. “Hey, Jack. Is this Vitaly’s camera?” Shannon rights the tripod with a small video camera attached to the end of it.
“It certainly could be. I don’t remember seeing him with it when he left last time. He just had his communication pad thingy. We can’t take that, though. It’s evidence.”
“Evidence for what?”
“Seriously?” Jack looks around the destroyed home, “If this were my place, someone’s gettin’ sued.”
“I think it still works.” Shannon wakes the camera and begins fumbling through the menu screen on the viewer. “Yeah, there’s a bunch of files on here. It looks like a video for each session.”
Vitaly was indeed making an effort to communicate with Mr. Whiskers using the communication pad. He would start by sitting on the floor and offering a treat pulled from a plain ziplock bag he carried. Those treats were a constant in the training sessions, and Mr. Whiskers seemed to enjoy them. Vitaly also seemed very enthusiastic each time one was accepted. Jack and Shannon quickly skim through the videos, occasionally peeking through the open front door to confirm no one is paying attention.
They reach the last video. Vitaly is again on the floor with Mr. Whiskers sitting in front of him. The communication pad is between them. Vitaly offers a treat. “Here. My smart boy! Yes! Getting smarter every time! I think your special treats are helping, yes?”
Mr. Whiskers takes the treat with an enthusiastic chomp and chews it quickly. Then he slaps his right front paw on one of the communication pad buttons. [YES] blurts out in an artificial voice.
“You’re a smart one! Yes!”
[YES] [YES]
“Do you like the house?”
[YES] [NO]
“What? You’re not sure.”
[YES]
“Maybe a bigger house!” Vitaly gestures with wide arms.
[BIG] [YES]
“And what do you think of the humans?” Vitaly asks, now gesturing toward the crowd outside.
[LOL] [LOL]
The video ends. Shannon looks up at Jack.
“Well, he’s not wrong.”
The End.
Fun the whole way down. Enjoyed, thanks for sharing.
I love this. So fun to read! I was completely immersed and I love the humour. Thank you. 🌟💚