Little Coyote. A Short Story.

They call me Little Coyote, like Ki and Ote, but my name is Quinn.  It’s an awfully serious soundin’ name for where I’m from. I have a brother named Bubba and a sister named Joe. And even though we’re the same age, both of them are bigger than I am and have been kicking my butt since the day we were put together in this world. So not only am I small, but I’m named Quinn. Doesn’t bode well for a dog.

I have one brown eye. It’s apparently unremarkable. My other eye is as blue as the ocean around Mexico. A stranger lady wandered into Maw’s Pick and Choose looking for treasures of a non-dog sort, and she said that. She said she could go diving in my eye, that lady. She said she was from Dallas. Whatever that is. She used the word transfixed and I think that’s a good thing. She said darling…about me. She didn’t say that about Joe or Bubba. I almost had her. But, no matter how much doe-eyed begging I did, while being a very, very, good boy, it didn’t work. She held me like a child and cooed and purred at me. But then she said she didn’t like boy dogs because they smelled like Fritos and humped everything. Do they think we don’t understand them?