On Monday, my girl and I were strolling down a side-street in a smallish Connecticut town and saw, coming toward us at a trot up the middle of the street, an adolescent coyote.
It was so thin, and its face so gaunt, that I had a difficult time determining that it was a kind of dog and not any other kind of creature. It loped the way wild animals do, despite its mange and half-chewed tail. We watched in horror as it seemed oblivious to an SUV coming towards it, but it swayed out of the way as the vehicle got too close for comfort.
And it headed straight into town, turning left at the corner to the main street.
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