Had a little fight with the locals yesterday evening.

Between five-thirty and six, as things were settling down in the lair after Snacky Time, Ghost suddenly came out of his curl and shot for the door. This wasn't a "woof, dammit, forgot to go bark at the coyotes" sort of thing, but a chest-roar "all hands on deck to repel boarders" sort of thing. By the time I got to the door to let him out Fritz was well into the act, and they both shot right out of the yard, off the ridge and down the slope before I fully realized they'd yanked the door right out of my hand in their haste.

By the time I grabbed my carbine and got to a place where I could see what was going on, Ghost was in the middle of the meadow mixing it up with something. And I never did quite see what it was, as the light was starting to go and my eyes aren't what I could wish. It was a bit smaller than him, grayish, and it seemed to me that it moved like a cat. They were dancing around each other, but I only got a moment's look because Fritz was much slower than Ghost but no less determined to get in on the action. When whatever it was saw the Hound of the Baskervilles closing on it - and possibly me behind him, though the sight of the dog would have been enough for me - then whatever it was decided to check out doings in Wisconsin or some other far-away place. I wanted a shot at the thing, if only to find out for sure what the hell it was, but there were too many dogs about. So I contented myself with a few shots in the air to speed up the procession and keep it wanting to be far, far away. Ghost chased it, but I've seen him run faster - he'd pretty clearly decided that as long as it left the precinct of the meadow, honor had been served. He'd come the closest of us to exchanging blows with the thing, and in cooler blood he seemed to vote for discretion. Smart dog.

It was about the right size for a full-size bobcat, but I've never seen one that far into open ground or anywhere near so close to a dwelling. So I can't say for sure what it was.