Part 1

Coyote Hits the Road

Normally, the screw-up would have really set me off. These guys had been a problem since we hired them. But for once I had no problem controlling my temper. On the contrary–I had to be careful not to sound happy. The subcontractor that was screwing up was in LA. And somebody would have to go down and decide if they were salvageable or we were better off just dumping them and re-bidding the contract.

“God, I hate LA,” I said, trying my best to sound disgusted, “but tell them I’ll be there Monday morning”.

On the plane I found myself trying to figure out how to get them to do just a good enough job to keep our business. Not too good–then they wouldn’t need me to drop in and help them out from time to time.

“Jeez,” I thought when I realized what I was doing. “Coyote was bad enough. Now she’s turning me into a bleeping consultant! Where does it end?”

Before describing this latest trip, I’d probably better fill you in on coyote’s adventures on the Mistress Marquesa roller coaster since the last story. Probably the only two people who read Grace of the Witch or Hypnosis and the Causes of Coyote Behavior and didn’t have a clue that your furry correspondent was in love up to the tip of his bushy tail were yours truly and MM. I figured she didn’t, because, among other things, she said she was going to start “nagging me” to see her again. Right. Nag me like “if you don’t get down here and get this suitcase full of hundred dollar bills out of my bedroom, I’ll never speak to you again.”

How many times would she have to nag you to do that before you found yourself waiting for them to board rows 10 to 24?

I couldn’t get to LA, but I had to go to Chicago. Did she want to join me there? She did! I should have figured out what was going on with me when I got her a seat on a LAX-ORD flight. My stomach felt like it did when I was lying in bed on Christmas Eve when I was six. I was so excited it hurt. Then the trip unraveled because of her schedule. That was a disappointment, but there were other possibilities. I started worrying when my email went unanswered for a week, but was determined to maintain my wild coyote poise and not act the sissy.

When she finally did respond, things seemed fine–she said she had just been busy. I answered with a list of possible dates, one only a few weeks off. After nearly another week, I finally got a response. Sort of a generic “Hi, how are you? What have you been up to?” At first I thought she hadn’t gotten my note with the list of dates and plans. But then it hit me. “Wait a minute! She didn’t send me an original note–she sent me a reply!” I logged back on, and sure enough, her note was a reply to mine. Her generic response told me she had replied without having read my original.

A big deal? No. She gets a lot of e-mail. But it’s effect on me was. It took a real hit for me to realize where I was emotionally. And from where I was, that was a real hit. One minute I was someone special, sitting in the front seat with Mistress, with my head out the window and my tongue wagging in the wind. The next, I’m rolling tail over teakettle in the gravel on the side of the road. I wasn’t special at all–just a wet black nose in the crowd. It really hurt, and it took me a while to figure out why, and where I wanted to go once I did.

I suffered in silence for about a week, until Mistress sent me a note asking simply “What’s going on, MY pet?” I replied:

“I know it was my fault for falling in love with you in the first place, and you didn’t ask for it, but, should it ever happen again, COULD YOU AT LEAST SLOW DOWN TO 35 OR SO BEFORE PUSHING ME OUT THE DOOR? It felt like I bounced and rolled for a block and a half.

“I’m telling you this only so you understand why your coyote is so wary around You. I’m not asking for anything. You asked a fair question and deserve the straight answer–what’s going on with Your pet.

“I still care very much for you, and am doing my best to continue doing so on Your terms. That says an awful lot about your charms–and the fact that coyotes are survivors helps too!:-)”

She was genuinely surprised to learn why I reacted so hurt. I don’t think she had a clue as to how I felt before I found myself in the ditch. I say that because she said as much. I was sure she didn’t when she mused out loud: “You were in love with me? <pause> How much money did you say you made again?” (I made that up! Honest I did! If you don’t believe me, she’ll kill me!).

There are a number of reasons–beyond demonstrating yet again why this coyote’s initials are NSW–why I’ve included this little vignette. For one, I’m writing this at her request. I love writing about her–it helps me come to terms with my own feelings and–to the extent it’s possible–understand her. So the assignment is a happy one for me. But there’s a suitability issue that my conscience compels me to make as clear as I can.

She’s not right for everybody, and not everybody’s right for her. To put some scale on the magnitude of that understatement, for the mathematically inclined, we’re talking maybe 5 standard deviations (I mean statistical, you perverts) from the mean in the first case and 7-9 in the second. And we ain’t talkin’ no fat-tailed distribution either. The average person’s got a better chance of being killed by a donkey than finding happiness with Mistress Marquesa.

Like me, you’re a lot luckier, however. Since it’s likely you’re reading this on her site, you’re probably already 3-4 bubbles off true. That would put the odds of you finding a relationship with her worth the costs (and believe me, the money is incidental) somewhere between 1 in 3 and 1 in 20. Not too bad, especially when you consider her odds of finding someone worth playing with for nothing. Just remember, coyote had no idea how right he was when he said–what seems like years ago now–that “this ain’t Kansas, Toto.”

Coyote Generals Warning: If you pursue a relationship with Mistress Marquesa and later decide that you want out because it turns out to be more of what you thought you wanted than you actually find yourself prepared to surrender, you won’t find it as easy to disengage as you now imagine or you will then like.

“Know this to be the truth”, to borrow a phrase from Her Hypnotic Highness: Mistress Marquesa is extremely and intensely addictive. How much so came home to me while picking gravel out of my skin with my teeth. I wasn’t angry. All I could think of was how to get back in the car. And I had only met her once.

Given where you’re reading it, this warning probably won’t discourage you, and may actually encourage you to go on. But that’s your problem. Coyote’s conscience is clear. On this point, at least. Now he can shake the dirt out of his fur and start down the road after his Mistress.