Two Coyotoes


“Hey Ed what’s happening?  You look a little down this morning.  Heck I hate to use the term ‘mangy’ but it even looks like you haven’t licked your fur for a week.  It’s sticking out in all directions and, if I may say so, you smell rank.”

“Yeah.  To tell you the truth Jill I’m just not feeling that good.  Two reasons:  First, I just heard that the coyote unemployment rate is sharply up this month and I’m part of it—your brother Jack just fired me.  I’m unemployed.  Second, I haven’t had a nice, fresh rabbit in a long time.  My stomach’s a little upset.  I shouldn’t have eaten that crushed road-kill magpie off the pavement—who knows how long it was there?”

“Ed, what are you talking about?  A coyote can’t be unemployed.  Just go catch a rabbit.  You and I have done it many times down at the dead-end dry gulch.  You chase ‘em in and I’ll rip their little throats out with my dainty sharp teeth!  Just like we always used to do!  What do you say?”

“Oh I don’t know Jill—it’s just not so simple any more.  I’m just not an ‘entrepreneur’ like your brother Jack.  He has everybody specializing at what they’re best at—some at chasing, some at catching, some at skinning and some at guarding the stash.  It’s quite a process now, but apparently I didn’t fit in anywhere, so here I am—fired.”

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Ed.  I don’t know what an ‘entrepreneur’ is.  It just sounds like some silly word to me.  Whatever they can do, we can do it too.  Just like we used to—let’s go to the gulch right now and get started.  A little fresh rabbit meat will perk you right up!”

“Jill, you’re still making it too simple.  Catching rabbits now involves bookwork.  President Bark now requires a license for any coyote enterprise that catches rabbits.”

“A license?”

“Yeah.  And that’s not all.  Now there are a lot regulations and paperwork involved.  Kills must be taken fairly and reported.  Part of the rabbits collected must go as taxes to the pack government.  ”


“Yeah, Jill.  Our pack leaders are too busy regulating us to hunt, so they need more rabbits from us. Rabbit taxes also pay for other things such as social security for coyotes in their old age and universal coyote healthcare.  Nowadays one in four rabbits goes to pay taxes.  My head is spinning just talking about it—that’s why I guess I’m not an entrepreneur like Jack.  That’s why I have to wait for someone to employ me.  I even think I’m supposed to get a quota of ‘unemployment’ rabbits, but I don’t see much coming my way.  I’m not holding my breath.”

“Are you kidding me, Ed?  We’re coyotes!  We don’t even have opposable thumbs.  We shouldn’t be worried about licenses and rules.  Forget all that stuff and let’s just go and catch our own rabbits down at the dry gulch.  All your talk has got me mad now.  It will be the worse for the rabbits.  I can taste their blood already when I rip their little throats out.  Just let someone try to stop me!”

“Jules, Bertha, and Tom might just do that Jill.  They could boycott us and picket our kill.  They’re the Concerned Vegan Coyote Committee for the Prevention of Cruelty to Rabbits (CVCCPCR).  They’ve singled out your very throat-tearing style to protest and have lobbied to make it illegal.  If they hear rabbit screams from the dry gulch, you can bet they’ll be there and on us like a shot.”

“Well just what are we supposed to do?  I’m starved!”

“So am I Jill.  The CVCCPCR says that we should learn to be vegan.  They recommend we raid farmer MacDonald’s garden patch and eat his fava beans and arugula.”

“Fava beans and arugula!?”

“It’s supposed to be very healthy.  Farmer MacDonald’s garden is certified organic!”

“I can’t do that Ed.  Where can we go?”

“Well, I understand you can still chase rabbits in Wyoming.”

“Let’s go to Wyoming.”

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