Last night a pack of coyotes woke me. In the confusion of sleep, I thought there were children outside, in the dark, howling. It was strange because the coyotes tend to yip more than howl, but I guess that's just what they felt like doing last night.
They were gone in less than a minute, or at least gone quiet. It took another hour or two for my dog and I to get back to sleep, though. The coyotes had switched on my brain and I couldn't turn it back off again, even after the woods had been silent for a while. I thought about the books I'm preparing. A question I needed to ask my mother. On it went, doing the mind's thing.
And if I'm awake, then my dog is awake. She thinks I'll get up and take her outside so we can pack walk together. Because if the coyotes get to, why can't we? She's not afraid of them, exactly. I'd call it more of a respectful interest.
My husband and the cats slept through the entire thing. He snored. They sighed (they really do). And I thought about chapters in my book. A dream that disturbed me. The blog post I'd write the next morning. And then it was morning.
Writing Streak: 0 days
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