Thoughts on not being eaten by a mountain lion

Remember when I told the story of quitting my job and then almost killing my dog? Well, before Quincy almost died of dehydration, we were on the verge of being eaten by a mountain lion.

As many Grand Valley residents know, there have been sightings of a mountain lion around Connected Lakes. Our house is near Connected Lakes and we walk the pedestrian paths down there.

I don’t worry about the mountain lion because I figure it will go after the dog before it goes after me. Don’t even try to dispel my logic. It makes sense to me and I’m the one thinking it.

So on Tuesday afternoon, Quincy and I were bebopping and scatting down the trail to Connected Lakes when I see something cross the trail ahead of me. It was just a blur of yellow fur. It wasn’t running up the trail, but across it.

What big, yellow animal could possibly be crossing the trail into the brush?

Panic flooded my brain. Mountain lion. Mountain lion. Mountain lion. My brain kept yelling in my head: Mountain lion!

I stopped dead in my tracks. I called Quincy and turned to head back up the trial.

Once my brain was done yelling “mountain lion,” it started thinking about what was the right thing to do.

I felt so vulnerable. How the heck could I fend off a mountain lion?

Then I saw it had come back across to the other side of the trail.

I started thinking up the survival tips I had learned. Don’t run. Dang, I wanted to run. But then I realized I’d be running up hill and I’m chunky and I’m slow. It would be on me in two seconds.

Should I walk fast? Should I be quiet? Should I yell? Call 911? I decided to keep with my original plan which was to stay as calm as possible and walk back up the trail clinging to the leash on my bait … er, I mean dog, while constantly looking over my shoulder.

That’s when I saw my savior, a man walking with hand weights. “Maybe the lion will eat him instead,” I hoped.

Moments later, that man was calling his dogs which were charging out of the shrubs. Two, giant, yellow labs.

Not a mountain lion, a yellow lab.

Holy crap. I was never so relieved. As the two young labs chased Quincy up the trail. I told the man I thought one of them was a mountain lion. He seemed more concerned with getting his dogs to leave mine alone.

I was never so happy to see a pair of dogs sniff my dog’s butt before.