Neighborhood Critters - Javelina

Javelina
Originally uploaded by Peaqoud.

For those of you who don't live in the southwestern United States, this is what a javelina looks like.
They are actually a collared peccary, although some (and I'm not naming any names) call them pigs. A couple of dogs I know have been torn apart by their tusks, but it doesn't stop me from chasing them when I get the chance. Their stink can be picked up from a great distance. In fact, they smell so strong that my mum even has to hold her nose when they're trotting nearby. Something akin to rotting garbage and a human who hasn't been near a shower in a very long time. The babies are easy to scare, but sometimes the bigger ones turn tail and chase me back. Then dad gets very upset and makes me go on the leash. Last time that happened, he stopped taking me to the arroyo where the granddaddy of the javelinas lurks (dad told mum he was the size of a small horse!).

The Bark is Out

Finally! I get to have a voice of my own and a place to woof about what's new and important in my life. My name is Ruby Tuesday (officially), although I also get called plain old Ruby, the Princess Rubelina (when mum and dad are doting), Bubela, Ruby-Buby, and when the doting starts to disintegrate into puppy-talk, Boobers, Booberus and Booberishus. They're all pretty much okay names with me, as long as the tummy is getting sufficiently rubbed and dinner arrives on time.

I live with my people, in Sedona, Arizona, USA. Life is good here. I have my own couch on the front porch, from where I can watch for coyotes skulking down the street, or javelinas trespassing into the front yard. Most days, a troop of quails or one of the obnoxious bluejays will come a bit too close to the edge of my fence, which gives me permission to start up some serious barking and tell those no-good intruders exactly what I think of them. I have quite a lot to say, and was even once called a "trash talker" by some smart-aleck dog trainer. Sure, I like to speak my mind, and I always make damn sure I get the last word. Especially when the yard dogs across the street start with their name-calling.

My best friend is Monty. He comes for sleepovers when his people go out of town. I've taught him how to play pully the way I like it, and although he's not as agile as me, he's very strong (but he usually lets me win anyway).



More about Monty later...

This has been quite a lot already for my first entry, so I'm going to sign off here. My people are going to take me out for my nighttime walk before bed. I have to patrol the neighborhood for stray coyotes and make sure the coast is clear before we all retire. It's alive with scents out there this time of night, so I'll be off to pick up the latest news.