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So I live in an area where coyotes are a huge problem. I also have several cats I rescued when they were just kittens. Well now they are full grown and love to play in our backyard. One on them in particular, (His name is Rusty and he’s the devil) loves to roam around OUTSIDE the yard. In order to keep him from being eaten I’ve installed a crap ton of Coyote roller bars and “Cat Netting” to keep him from escaping. The cat netting website swore up and down cats don’t like to “hang from their claws.”
Aspiring computer programmer Skye gets a job at the notorious Coyote Ugly bar to help pay her way through college. She meets Trip, a sous chef at the restaurant next door, on her first night, and they can’t get enough of each other. But can Skye handle her studies, a boyfriend, and keeping her cool at the wild bar - all at the same time?
On the mountain sits a house with blue trim,
protection painted into every inch of the siding.
Zeus Ktesios sits enthroned in the living room,
protector of old armchairs, protector of
bay-window sunlight on an old Persian rug,
protector of fifty-six acres of wild forest
and the safety of the family who lives there.
Zeus Herkeios, Zeus Ephistios,
watches from a rocking chair on the porch,
for this dwelling doesn’t have a courtyard,
and Southern houses are enclosed not by gateways
but by grand porches holding watchful eyes
whose gaze has been felt on Southern streets for a hundred years.
The hearth glows on winter nights,
and from it we light fires in the summer.
Hestia is known in the taste of burnt marshmallows,
in the burn-scars on my hands, in the coal-shaped spoon
I ate with for a year.
She is felt in the heat of fire-warmed stones,
wrapped in a blanket to keep warm and night,
and She is felt in the propane that keeps us alive.
The Agathos Daimon is a black snake,
whose family abounds in the barn.
Some are six feet long, and shed skin
is tangled in the fencing around the pear trees.
Hekate Nyktipolos wanders nightly,
protectress and queen of the night. Coyote howls
and barred-owl hoots
are Her song.
Apollon Prostatêrios is protection that rings out
through the sound of a banjo at midday,
and He is seen in the shadow of a doorway,
Pornopiôn flying through the fields to land
and guard the threshold.
Hermes leans against a fencepost, chewing on new grass,
for there is no herm but there will always be a place for Him
where men are uncautious,
where men need a messenger,
where men gamble survival on a week’s harvest.
There is a swallow in the eaves, and Aphrodite is barely present,
heard in birdcalls, felt at the heart of family.
Hymn to the Household Gods (Theoi Ktesioi) from Southern Appalachia, from a very specific house on top of a mountain