Chabo's Journal: Its going to be a Merry Christmas after all!

Note: This is a continuation of a series of stories written by a central Texas police officer named "Darth Tang", which are being archived by Chabo, with no editing. Read more about this project.

This story was originally posted on December 21, 2006.

I really don't take much interest in Christmas other than the religious aspect and betting in our suicide pool, and this year was no exception. The wife & I don't exchange presents as we buy what we want as the money comes avalible.

So I'm sleeping in this morning on my day off, having migrated to the living room while my wife gets ready for work.

I'm dozing.

I hear her go outside to play with her 'baby', Boo.

I'm vaguely aware of some running about, but I'm nearly completely asleep.

The distinctive blasting of an AK-series weapon on the back porch levitates me off the sofa; I feel like I've best doused with icy water and given a strong electric shock at the same time. When I hit the floor, I'm badly disoriented, wih Desert Storm thoughts zipping around for a half-second.

Grabbing a 70s CAR-15 (with the metal slip-stock and cylindrical flash suppressor) from where its clipped under the coffee table, I race out to the back porch.

My wife is the source of the noise; she has an AK I fitted with an RPK barrel (with bipod) and stock; with a 75 round drum it weighs in at 22lbs, and is a sweetheart to shoot. However, not for my short, light wife; she has the drum braced against a porch post, but the barrel is hardly steady. What she lacks in accuracy, she's making up for in volume. She is tearing up the west acreage in the general direction of a pack of coyotes which are running for their lives.

Boo, her baby (105lbs of AKA resgistered Schutzen-trained German Shepherd) is dancing in a mad circle, a 62lb adult male coyote gripped in her jaws, unsure of what to do: finish her current victim, chase the others, protect mommy, or get away from the terrible noise. Finally she snaps the coyote's neck, slings it away like a dishrag, and charges off at a tangent for no apparent reason.

Our property is lakefront, but the drought has dried it up at our end-we're now a mile from the water.

That's what we figure the coyotes were after: the forty-gallon tub of water that services Boo & the outdoor cat.

Anyway, I disposed of the dead coyote, and my wife went off to work, with instructions for me to report as soon as the outdoor cat was accounted for.

Eventually the cat reported in, and I contacted my wife.

A word about my wife: she is an excellent shot, but hampered by the concept that size of the weapon = leathality.

I tried to explain (again) before she left for work that for killing coyotes in our situation, precison & range are the key, not firepower.

When I reported in, she informed me that she had stopped by the Sheriff's Office and examined their sniper rifles, and that I was line up one for us: a PSG-1. She said it was very nice.