Cursed Tongue: “Yo, Adrian! It’s me, Cholesterol.”

Posted by CursedTongue on April 11, 2007

Coyotes are dear to my heart. Not just because my dog looks like one. But also because we’ve so rudely built subdivisions, four lane highways and strip malls on their stomping grounds and they’ve managed not only to adapt but to thrive.

These scrappy canid denizens of North America have rummaged quietly through the garbage of civilization, pretty much since our ancestors began trading glass beads for valuable real estate. Hunted as vermin from ranches and farms, howling blood-curdling songs over the plains and being viciously persecuted by that self-righteous roadrunner, coyotes have flourished regardless.

Instead of shrinking in number the coyote population has boomed and expanded its territory. These crafty animals subsist on rodents, live in packs, but hunt solo — which makes them non-threatening. They tend to leave humans alone, unless idiots feed them toasted sub sandwiches.

On Tuesday, a crowd gathered outside of a Quiznos in the heart of Chicago, to goggle and snap pictures of coyote that casually strode into the restaurant. He attempted to jump the counter, but slipped and fell into the drink cooler where he calmly remained until Animal Care and Control forcibly evicted him and gave him a free ride to the dog pokey. (He wasn’t wearing a shirt or shoes. That just isn’t tolerated at Quiznos.)

An employee of Animal Control decided to name the coyote Adrian, after himself. Animal Care and Control originally thought up the name “Toasty,” but Quiznos owns the “Toasty” trademark, and they just can’t afford an infringement lawsuit.

The restaurant donated $1,000 and a “meaty” prime rib sandwich to Animal Care and Control. Animal Control declined to feed the human-grade sandwich to Adrian Jr., choosing instead punishing him with a supper of cat food. (I’ve smelled dog food and cat food, and while I’ve never been tempted to consume either, the reek of cat food always makes me gag.)

I think Animal Control made a good call on the prime rib sandwich, the calorie and fat content of which must be pretty outrageous, because it’s not listed on the Quiznos web site. The cat food was probably better for coyote consumption, as long as it was wheat-gluten free.

Reporters speculated about what Adrian Jr. was thinking when he walked through the propped open door of a restaurant with the aroma of toasted prime rib sandwiches wafting out of it. One reporter speculated that he may have been looking for a mate. Theoretically speaking, he must have tried to jump the counter because there was a harem of female coyotes in heat locked in the storeroom between the mini bags of Doritos and the jugs of Mt. Dew syrup.

Adrian Jr. must have been sick or injured, to go into the sub-par sandwich chain because my Scroungy Coyote would have walked into a Starbucks. Of course, she’d probably have been looking for my husband and me. Or perhaps Adrian was well aware of the possibility that his appearance in the restaurant would generate a windfall of publicity on an especially slow news day. I’m sure every coyote has secret aspirations for a career in the entertainment industry.

It’s almost too bad that Animal Control shipped him to 9 acres in the suburbs, where he can raise a family and take his pups to the local Quiznos without bothering stuck-up urban children-hating diners. He could have been a prime time sitcom contender.

- Sarah Letnes

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