I don't know why Coyote chooses to come & visit me Especially considering that I"m a short, fat white woman; completely bound to concrete and sidewalks, flushing toilets, that sort of thing. I never really was a wild-woods kind of child. You"d think that Coyote would be out harassing some weather-beaten old Paiute or Apache elder somewhere. But no, he shows up on my doorstep, drinking my Guinness & looking around for left-overs.
Anyway, for some reason Coyote came to visit me, in his dusty blue jeans & sprung boots, floppy leather cowboy hat shading his ancient amber eyes. He squatted down on his haunches & scratched himself in places better left unsaid. After telling me a few of his dirtier jokes & reacquainting himself with the novelty of television and good Irish suds, he looked at me sideways & said, "You know, I've got a dirty secret.".
Now, knowing Coyote like I do, this wasn't a big surprise. He gets blamed for everything. And there are a few things he's been blamed for that he really didn't do. Before you laugh, notice I said a few things. I don't think Coyote's to blame for the religious right. Or Republicans. But the platypus and tumbleweeds and sticker-bushes. those are all his idea. So are handicaps and death. but that's for another time. I wondered exactly what kind of secret Coyote would consider to be dirty. So I asked, "It must be pretty bad if you"re calling it a dirty little secret.".
He smiled his toothy grin, "Yeah, so don't tell nobody else. I've got a reputation to maintain.".
At this, I laughed. A great big belly laugh that came up from my toes. He waited for me to regain my composure. It's hard to know when he's serious or about to tell one of his nastiest cat-house stories. Even when Coyote was known as One Big Angry, he kept a grin under his nose. .
"You see, once, way back when, back when there were still more buffalo than white people, I made that little joke about the rock.
