"Family" by T.K. Wade (From the pages of "Wild.")
Timmy the coyote hung his head down low as he moped right into the den. Peter, the boy’s father, took notice of his sulking kid. The boy tripped over a pile of bones and just laid flat upon the floor. This was followed by a very sorrowful sigh.
Obviously concerned for his son’s well-being, the father asked, “Is there something wrong, Son?”
The boy sighed again as if trying to gain even more attention. “Oh, it’s nothing, Pop.”
Peter trotted over to his son and helped the boy to his feet with a well-placed bite to his scruff. “Now, what did I say about keeping secrets? Tell your old man what the problem is.”
The little coyote rubbed his nose with his leg and said, “It’s Billy from the other valley, Pop. Told me I was good for nothin’. Can’t even catch an ol’ jackrabbit.”
Peter chuckled. “Is that all, son? That’s nothing to worry your little head over!” The father ruffled up the boy’s head fur. “I’ve seen you catch plenty jackrabbits!”
“But Billy doesn’t know that! I bet he’s been telling all the other guys… and maybe even the girls. None of ‘em are gonna like me anymore.”
Kate trotted from deeper inside the den. “Honey, I got dinner all trussed up in there…” She gasped when she saw her son. “Timmy! You look awful! Are you sick?!”
Peter blocked her from getting to him. “Now, now, dear, the boy is just having problems with his friend. I’m pretty sure this is a matter his father can help him with.”
“What kind of problems? They aren’t biting him, are they?”
“Oh, I don’t think so, dear.”
Timmy peeked around to see her. “Well, actually he did nip at me a little. He looked like he was gonna do more, so I ran away.”
Kate forced her way past Peter and checked him over. Peter grumbled, but he knew that there was little he could do to stop her now that a potential injury was involved. The mother said, “You do have a few “boo-boos” on your bottom, dear.” She licked at them.
Once more, Timmy let out a sorrowful sigh. “What do I do? Catch a jackrabbit in front of him?”
Peter sat down on his haunches and replied, “Things like these tend to cycle out of control, son. You need to stand up to him or you’ll always be afraid. Who knows, he might get some of the other boys in on it… then where will you be?”
“But gee willikers, Pop, Billy’s so much bigger than me!”
Kate cocked her head. “Big-nosed Billy? Dear, he’s just as small as you are.”
Peter concurred, “Yes, dear, I was just getting to that. He’s just putting on a big front. But I’ll tell you a secret, Son. He has one major weakness.”
Timmy asked, “What’s that, Pop?”
“He’s not my son. You can take him any day.”
“You want me to take him?”
Peter smiled proudly. “Well, naturally I expect you to kill him. Just give him a good hard bite to the neck. After a few jerks, he’ll go right to sleep.”
Timmy looked up to his mother. “Mom, do you think I should do it?”
She sighed and nodded. “Your father is right, honey. You should go out there and break his neck. At the very least, the other coyotes will respect you for it. Just try not to track too much blood into the den when you come back. I just cleaned.
Timmy hopped into the air with newfound courage. “That’s what I’ll do! I’ll kill him, and he won’t be makin’ fun of me no more!”
Peter chuckled. “Go get him, sport!”
Timmy darted out of the den to take care of business. Peter stood next to his wife and let out a happy sigh. “There he goes, dear.”
She nodded as a little tear rolled down her furry cheek. “Our boy is growing up.”
Peter quickly snapped out of it and asked, “So, what’s for dinner?!”
She giggled and walked towards the back. “I think his name is Robert.”
“Sounds delicious, dear.”
-Author Notes-
After watching an episode of “Leave it to Beaver,” I had the idea of presenting a similar story but from the perspective of vicious coyotes. The moment where the father encourages his son to murder the one who is bullying him is intended to come across as shocking while still realistic. Nature is a very hostile thing, and there is no problem in the animal kingdom that cannot be solved by simple murder.
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