Yelping Foxes

    Outside my house, down a sloping hill, we hear the foxes scream. It is not something I grew up with or that I am accustomed to over the years, the decades of of my life in different states and countries.

    Foxes, screaming and yelping, whelping or crying. Smaller canines.

    Like dogs, or wolves, or coyotes. Dingos? Another breed? Or those jackals and hyenas of the African continent. Maybe large parts of Asia, too. Europe must have some feral canines as well. Dogs, mutts, yelpers and barkers and growlers all over, everywhere. Back alley and far off woods, forested mountains and deep, dank jungles. Dogs and packs and groups of hounds and sharp teethed runners. Canines with canine teeth, no matter what genus or breed or family

    The foxes behind my house are not too ferocious. Perhaps they suffer and fear?

    They cry and scream.

    Meanwhile, a U.S. fighter pilot lies dead or dying, or captured and scared, but maybe safe and relieved, in Khuzestan, a province or region, in the Zagros Mountains of western Iran. We pray for his safety.

    His flight crew buddy is all right, a little battered and bruised, but he made it.

    While Iranians struggle for their survival.

    As do people in the fighting zones of Ukraine, which most of us forgot about, or part of war torn Sudan, which still more if us never cared about.

    Americans and Canadians and Mexicans and all the others are paying much more for gas or petrol this last month, certainly. We subsidize the rockets and the planes and the ships and the troops.

    All connected.

    People own dogs, and take them on planes flying around the globe. Not much fear of them being shot down by enemy air defense weaponry. Accidents do happen, but not as much in the air as on the ground. Not as much drunkenness and social media with "smart phones" up there, gratefully.

[I had more: I accidentally eliminated it]

Dark splotches on the moon, the plains and valleys...

Come back to the land of the yelping foxes, my dear. (That had been the last line.)

Oops. I will try to fix it. I sabotaged my own post. I had mentioned how the couple on a two month vacation from Florida were in Palm Springs, with their little dog half Shiatzu and Havanese, a black and white good natured dog that suffered on take offs and landings, but chewed its chewies in the wheel chair of its elderly owner, the ones from Cleveland.

    Foxes down by our creek with the turtles. No fish, but amphibians like frogs. And bugs.

    The rather full moon with its darker splotches, must be those features that our astronauts are hurtling to see. The far side, unseen by human eyes before.

    Christians celebrate Easter, while Muslims weep, in places like Iran or Gaza or Sudan...

    It was composed, but I think I may have wiped it out this morning.

So, the foxes cry and yelp, and I am alone. Last night, now, but the family is coming back from Denver, where I waited with that dog in Denver, at a Southwest terminal, not Frontier.

    Okay, I got out the last of it. Astronauts are over halfway there, where I watched them on FoX live TV. Who needs Internet when you have Hulu? 

    A channel for randos like me.

    Sorry disjointed, it flowed better in my original writing.

    See you soon. 

    The moon and the foxes and the hounds and romantic spaghetti scenes. All of it.

    There.