Crosspurposes

CROSSPURPOSES

TACO

Her eyes caught the light from the dining room hallway and glowed red. I startled before remembering the barrier between us—for she on the patio, and I was inside the house. The screen was open to the night air, cool and fragrant, desert breezes carrying the faint sweetness of far‑off, night‑blooming cacti to my paws.

“Let me in,” she growled. The rumble was low, but the voice behind it was high and sharp. Fear prickled my spine, and I hid it by lifting my head a little higher.

“NO,” I yipped. “I am the protector of this domain.”

“YOU ARE AN ABOMINATION,” she yowled, just as Master stepped out of the side room.

“TACO,” he commanded. “Get back. Come. Sit. Stay.”

I heard the urgency in his voice and did so. I was rewarded with a head pat and then the human raced toward the patio door, waved his arms, and yelled “SCAT. GO AWAY” The coyote snickered, threw back her head, and shouted to the moon and anyone else who cared to listen.

“I am FREEEEE!” she cried, and vanished into the night. I could hear her voice as it echoed off of the red rocks behind our territory.

I should introduce myself. My full name is Sun God Kennel Jungle Prince of Tenochtitlan By Juanita for Menendez

I answer to “Taco” Together, my human and I travel to great arenas where I am examined, praised, and rewarded with treats. The human receives ribbons of cloth for my efforts, which he hangs on the wall beside portraits of me, my mother, and her father. (When it comes down to it, I get the better part of the bargain. Treats are good. Ribbons of cloth have no use except to hang on the wall. ) “Xoloitzcuintle,” the plaque beside the portraits reads. It is easier and more common to hear the humans call me a Xolo.

COYOTE

I laughed as I left the Human Den. That creature who calls himself DOG? He doesn’t even have fur. How does he survive the cold desert nights? No wonder he clings to humans for warmth and shelter.

My coat is rough and warm. In summer it thins to shield me from the heat. I need no den but the shade of a cactus. I sleep through the hottest hours and hunt when the moon rises.

Rabbits tremble at my howl. I am free. I almost pity the captive who calls himself “Taco.”

TACO

I laughed when she left. She questioned me? Did she not know I am one of the oldest dogs in the world of Man? My lineage stretches back 3,000 years—21,000 dog years.

We are sacred. We guide our masters into the afterworld.

I have a warm bed, food on request, and a human who follows me at 3 a.m. when I hear something outside. He picks up my poo. He dispenses treats when I gaze at him just so.

They hand the ribbons to him, but it is I who earns them. I almost pity the untethered soul who calls herself “Coyote.”

COYOTE

As she was drifting off to sleep, Coyote thought back over the many eons of legacy she represented. Always free, always in charge of themselves, her ancestor was a majestic predator who ruled prehistoric plains. Every pup is born already knowing how the line split off over millennia, going from a single species to the variety of wild and free she shared the desert with. There were wolves and foxes and coyotes, but it was She that the First Nation revered as the Light Bringer. It was her line that gave fire and arranged the stars. It was her lineage who played tricks on the humans to keep them humble. She slept soundly now, aware of these truths.

TACO

As he was drifting off to sleep, Taco thought back over the many eons of legacy he represented. Always free, always in charge of themselves, his ancestor was a majestic predator who found easier ways to survive. Every pup was born already knowing how the line split off over millennia, going from a single species of wild predator to those who worked smarter instead of harder. It was they who realized that fire was warm and that if they would drive off the dangers of the night, they would be given food and shelter. They trained the humans over time to obey their commands, teaching them to give treats and to pick up their waste so that prey wouldn’t smell their presence until too late. He slept soundly now, aware of these truths.

The coyote returned the next night, just after the moon climbed high and the human went to bed. I patrolled the house, alert and dutiful. Even with the door locked tight, her voice reached me.

“You amuse me, Abomination,” she growled. “You think your way is best. You dream of my life—rabbits to chase, freedom to roam, no one to answer to. I am beholden to no one. I am FREE.”

“You are mistaken,” I replied. “I have safety, warmth, food, and care. You are alone. You must howl at the moon for company and fight for every meal. What can I say to convince you?”

“There is no sense in trying,” she said. “If you convinced me, I would long for comforts I cannot have. We share ancestors, but your line chose softness. I keep the rabbits in check. I clean the bones the vultures miss. Humans revere me too. What can you say to convince me?”

We argued through the night, each certain of their own truth. I knew she was wrong, but as I grew tired, I wondered whether her understanding mattered at all. Her disbelief could not change who I was—mighty, worthy, and, between us, always the better.

She ran off again, calling to the moon, “I am FREEE!”

COYOTE

When I could take no more of the abomination’s foolishness, I ran into the night and called back, “I am FREE.”

He was wrong, of course -- what did that matter? His disbelief could not touch the truth of me—mighty, worthy, and always the better.

On my way out, I knocked over the metal can and stole a half‑eaten chicken leg. Later, I found a rabbit. I am free.

EPILOGUE

As dawn painted the desert peach and pink, the man stepped outside and groaned at the trash scattered across the lawn. Fetching a bag and shovel, he muttered, “Stupid coyotes.”

Taco woke from his nap, trotted to his bowl, and filled his stomach. He shook his head. “Stupid coyote.”

The coyote stirred as the desert sun rose, belly full of rabbit and chicken bones. She yawned, rolled into the shade, and whispered to herself:

“I am free. Stupid human. Stupid Abomination.”