He slips into the drainage culvert and sprints down the darkened tunnel, careful not to be seen. The claws on his feet clicking against the wet concrete, slobber dripping from his chops. Above, the sun is falling out of the sky, and night is rising. It is time to feed.
Several seasons have passed since he found himself, quite by accident, in the heart of the city. For a while, he’d tried to find his way out of the maze of streets, bridges and ditches. But, after a while he gave up and accepted this as his new range.
Here the humans leave delicious, fatty food out of their pets. And when he can’t find that, the fat pets themselves are always easy prey. Easier at least than the squirrels and rabbits he’d chased as a pup.
Occasionally, he’d catch a familiar scent on a tree or patch of grass. Another of his kind, but the markings were always old, muted, decayed. His life here was good, but lonely.
Busting out of the tunnel into a residential neighborhood, he lets loose a howl. Night has fallen completely, and he will be nearly invisible.
The Midtown coyote is on the prowl.
The elusive Midtown coyote was the subject of much speculation during the later part of the 2000s. Did it really exist? Or was it simply the hallucination of a Central Gardens lawyer spiked off a few too many cosmos? As the years went by, the pet body count kept rising until the coyote was finally caught in a Midtown backyard the day before New Years Eve in 2010.