Walking our dogs doesn’t feel as enjoyable as it once used to. We ourselves down here in the valley of Tungsten have to restrict ourselves to the road and its openness, staying out of the willows. That is ambush territory. Same goes for the woodlands. Too many of us are losing our beloved dogs to mountain lions coming in even closer to their homes, where the cats are lying in wait outside, for a dog’s first morning pee or last let-out of the night.
None of us realize it will be our dog’s last moment.
My husband, Frank, has been sweeping the yard before going out with the dogs, then shoulders the shotgun while out on patrol. On a walk, he carries it all the way, and we all stay in our frightened, tight little huddle together.
Not unlike a small herd of deer. The latest feline aggressors are NOT afraid of humans.
These cats have everyone on edge in our community. People are arguing over lifestyles and coexistence, dog ownership and handling practices, existential matters of human habitation, approaches to defense and opinions on choices of weaponry, legalities on shooting an offending lion in the act of attacking one’s dog, and tacit agreement among some long-time mountain dwellers on how to best handle the situation.
It all gives rise to those images of movies in the 1940s, maybe, of mobs yelling in the night with torches, rifles and pitchforks, Kill the lion, kill the lion!
Meanwhile, the biologist from Colorado Parks and Wildlife (CPW), which has a hard time engendering community support on a good day, is attributing the rise in attacks – 23 dogs in the past 2 months – to the rise in social media. That, dear friends, doesn’t pass the straight-face test. Anyone who’s lived around here for more than five minutes understands that this isn’t normal.
We all understand that there are cougars lulling and lounging about in the forests in which we travel and play. We know and accept, or else why would we live here, that there are more in the population than CPW biologists know of. And most of us know not to leave our precious dogs out in the wilderness in which we live to fend for themselves, or tether them outside like a dangling canine satay.
I think of the gentleman traumatized by the loss of his Bernese dog to one of the great feline offenders in October. He let his dog out in the night, and when he failed to return, retired to bed. He found his mauled body in the morning, and left it for the ravens.
I shudder to think there are other people trusting the might of their big dogs to deal with a 180 pound cougar, and I pray that every one of us environmentally conscious dog lovers knows not to let our dogs out for an entire evening, where they literally walk among the prey. My heart goes out to his family, as I know they must’ve loved that dog. And sincerely, I am sorry for his loss.
We all love our dogs. It’s why we took them into our homes, in whichever means we did. My heart goes out to the community dog guardians who are now grieving the traumatic, sudden passing of their beloved canines to a handful of the few intensely aggressive, highly habituated, disturbingly dangerous felines.
I find it helpful, lest we rest on our respective laurels and breathe easier with a false sense of security that the “problem” lion was mortally wounded in the act of taking another dog. Indeed, he was not the last: https://www.wildlifetrackercolorado.com/ and note:
The latest mountain lion taking of a beautiful dog, Riley, on Big Springs, was Monday, January 9, 2023.
My sincerest condolences go to Riley’s mother. No dog lover should ever have to bear such grief and trauma. My heart is with you, and with you all. May we proceed safely in our community, where we all hope to hear less screams.
