We had a coyote in our backyard this morning.  Well, it was either a very red coyote or a very large fox.  I’m not sure and Google isn’t being very helpful about the whole thing.  It was red like a fox, as large as a coyote, with a long pouffy tail and pointy ears like both, and it was not a dog (I am pretty knowledgeable when it comes to dog breeds).  It was also running like it was scared, or stole something, or smelled cake (what?  wouldn’t that make you run?).

*Side note - did you know that any member of the genus Canis (dog, wolf, coyote, fox, or jackal) can breed together?  I think if I thought about it long enough I would have known this, having seen wolf/German Shepherd hybrids before, but it’s interesting to think that my 12 lb mama’s boy Shih Tzu, in theory, could successfully breed with a 175 lb Grey Wolf. 

Anyway…

I live in an under-construction subdivision, but there are some forests and fields north of us.  We often see many rabbits, the occasional fox, but coyotes usually stick to the areas a little further away.  While it was pretty cool seeing wildlife in our construction zone of a neighbourhood (I even told Eirinn that it was Swiper, which she thought was the most awesome thing in history), it made me quite sad.  It’s my fault (and the fault of my hundreds and thousands of neighbours in all the surrounding subdivisions) that these animals have no where to go but our backyards. 

We’re intruding on their land, not the other way around.  They were there first, by several hundred years, at least.  They had their own little subdivisions made up of trees and burrows and brush and we came, staked our claim without asking or compensating, and ploughed their homes over, leaving them homeless and transient.  And you know what will happen when these displaced animals find themselves caught in a subdivision?  I don’t for certain, but I’m afraid of possibilities.

I know this is awfully hypocritical of me to be harping about, especially given that our house was purchased before the field was even serviced.  We saw these animals homes and without hesitation signed their eviction papers.  And I love our home and the potential our neighbourhood has.  I believe it will be a beautiful subdivision to raise our two kids; we wouldn’t have bought it if we didn’t think so. 

But I can’t help feel a nasty stab of guilt anytime I see some undomesticated animal scurry by, afraid and disoriented.  I can’t help but think of people less sympathetic than me whose first reaction may be to call animal control (which would be a good thing because we have a no-kill policy in our area) or to frighten them more by taunting and cornering them or to take matters into their own hands, rightfully afraid for their children and pets.

Perhaps it’s best that I don’t know for sure what happened to the coyote-fox.  This way, when asked by Eirinn where the “box” went, I can tell her that Dora must have told him “Swiper, no swiping” and he just ran away and not feel like I’m hiding something grim and horrible from her.

Eirinn is now The Face of The Arkansas Agritourism Initiative.  I’m pretty sure that’s a title no one else on the planet can boast about having.

A few days ago I received an email from a professor at the University of Arkansas in the Dale Bumpers College of Agriculture, Food, and Life Sciences (I’m so not making that up).  He told me about a poster he was creating for a series of information sessions he was speaking at regarding agritourism in Arkansas.  He told me he had seen Eirinn’s image on my old blog and he wanted to use it for the poster.

 This one.  Isn’t she the cutest little punkin ever? 

I promptly emailed him back explaining that I was uncomfortable with the idea.  I don’t have a problem with strangers viewing images of her within the context of my writings, but the thought of one of those images being used elsewhere got me a little anxious.  But I thanked him for being so considerate.

I asked for opinions from Anonymous Husband, Carly, my coworkers, and my mom and found that I was pretty much the only one who shared that view.  Given the fact that he was a legitimate professor at a legitimate college (thank you Google) asking permission (he very easily could have just used it without asking - images on the internet not copyrighted are public domain), I had a change of heart.  I emailed him back, stating that out of good faith I would consider giving my permission to use her image, as long as I could see a draft of the poster first.  All this happened in a span of 3.6 minutes.  I may be indecisive, but I change my mind quickly.

The professor sent me a pdf draft this morning and I see that my worries were for nothing.  Her image spans the entire page, at an increased transparency with the text overlapping everything but her cute little face.  And a big splash of “The Arkansas Agritourism Initiative” across the top.  Nothing to be afraid of.  And I’m positive that the people scheduled to see this poster (fellow professors in the field) are far more harmless than the legions hundreds dozens of people that see her face everyday at the top of this blog.

And now she can add “The Face of The Arkansas Agritourism Initiative” to her ever-expanding resume and portfolio.  Not.  Too.   Shabby.

Today I met my mom and Eirinn at Rotten Ronnie’s for lunch.  It was a “special treat” because my mom didn’t have any other kids and Eirinn claims to like chicken nuggets (even though the discarded bag containing half of her order tells me otherwise).  The food actually grosses me out and makes me feel like a bad person and ashamed of myself after I eat it.  That’s why it’s a “special treat.”

She also loves the playroom and is pretty sure that every restaurant should have one.  Frankly, I do too.  Wouldn’t it be nice if places that served something other than cow lips and arseholes had a playground!  indoors!  so kids would actually want to eat there too?  Just a suggestion.

Eirinn is technically too young (ages 3-10) to use the playroom, but I let her if there are just well behaved younger kids in there with her.  As soon as the roughhousing hooligans pile in, running and screaming and threatening each other, I pull her out for fear I’ll never see her with all her limbs again.

Today, thankfully, it was a nice calm day, playroom-wise.  Eirinn general sticks to using the slide, which is harmless enough for my tender heart.  On her 894th time down, she emerged, sliding on her tummy, head-first, with a giant grin on her face.  As she struggled to stand up and climb out I noticed what was so amusing. 

Her pants were down around her knees.  And she thought this was brilliant. 

Not only was she the laughing stock of the restaurant (which, to her, was a very good thing, the little performer that she is), but everyone got to see that she was wearing Big Girl Disney Princess Pull Ups and not baby diapers.

My three thoughts were:

1.  Girl needs to grow a butt.  Those of us with J. Lo gadunk-a-dunks have never had the experience of our pants falling down.

2.  Where on earth was my camera at a time like this? 

and

3.  Boy am I glad I have a blog to share with the world my legions of fans a couple of people my mom (who was there) this kind of future humiliation.