The House on Coyote Hill

My husband and I moved up to Massachusetts from New Jersey ten years ago. Since we had no idea if we’d end up staying here, we opted to rent – and somehow, ten years passed. When our daughter was born, we came to the realization that maybe it was time to “grow up” and live the American dream by actually buying a house.

We looked for over a year, liking and losing a number of places due to a variety of circumstances. Finally, one came along that checked most of our boxes. We made an offer and… it was accepted!

But just to show the irony of life – and the fact that maybe we’re not cut out to be homeowners in the first place – we happened to be at the house the day we signed our paperwork. My husband and I celebrated with a hug. And just moments after we placed our pens down on the table – I kid you not – I see something out of the corner of my eye moving in the backyard behind him.

At first, I figured it was my imagination. Then, I figured it was just lack of sleep. But no, about 30 yards behind us, right on the back lawn – OUR NEW back lawn, mind you, AKA our problem now – was a coyote (again with the coyotes?). In the middle of the day. Rolling around on the ground. All of which, I later learned, are definite signs that it probably has rabies.

So if anybody needs me, I’ll be inside. From now until forever.