Howling along

Ursa was a bit fidgety last night and couldn't seem to settle down.  I checked all the usual culprits, but she'd eaten, she had water, she didn't want to go outside, so I gave her some attention and then went to bed.  I figured either she'd go to sleep or figure out how to tell me what she wanted.  She stuck her nose in my face a couple more times, switched floor spaces repeatedly and finally seemed to be happy.

We all went to sleep.

Then, at some point in the night, Stuart and I were both woken up by a noise.  A loud noise.  A noise I'd never heard before, that took me a few seconds in my sleep befuddlement to recognize.  It was Ursa and she was howling!  It didn't last very long and stopped as soon as I said her name.  I grabbed my glasses and stumbled into the hall.  She was laying in her usual sleep spot, and as far as I could tell, had just lifted her head and started howling like that.  It freaked me out a bit, but when I talked to her and rubbed her all over, she didn't seem to be in distress - just laid her head down to enjoy the attention and licked my hand.  So I went back to bed.

Stuart asked me if she was ok and I said I thought so.  We agreed that it had been the most mournful sound we'd ever heard.  We actually said that word simultaneously: mournful.

This morning, while I was showering, I had a thought.  We know there are coyotes in the nearby Fish Creek park - maybe she'd heard them and was just joining in?  I wonder what they were talking about...?