Hunted by a Bear

The bear, which last year I thought my husband made up as an elaborate ploy to avoid taking out the trash (see: The Man Who Cried Bear), is now stalking us. It’s casing the joint and is not being particularly clandestine about its activities, either. It has no fear whatsoever. 

The other night it came right up onto the front porch and today it was seen nosing around a truck. My neighbor told me it did not so much as glance upwards when she and her friends made a bunch of noise in an effort to get it to move along.

I feel utterly vulnerable. I don’t have bear spray and I don't have hunting equipment. I also do not know how to hunt. What will I do if the bear decides to break down the front door and come up the stairs in search of someone to eat? What, I’ll say, “Shoo, you’re not welcome here. Please leave”?

The bear is not going to listen to me.

No one listens to me, and I do not think this bear will be any different.

I am freaking out.

The phone lines are down, including cellular service, and my only other companions in the house are small children, a Betta  fish named Crystal that does nothing but float around in a small fishbowl all day pretending it’s dead, and a Chihuahua named Glen who is already a shaky, nervous wreck under the most serene of conditions. 

You go to gently pet the whimpering, quivering Glen and he recoils in fear as if he thinks you’re going to beat him. It is very annoying because he makes you feel guilty all the time when you’re not even doing anything to him.

Glen is so fearful that even the one thing he could do in the event of an intruder – bark – he cannot do because his vocal cords are rendered useless any time he is spooked, which is pretty much ALL the time.

He does bark, but only when there is no one at the door and nothing lurking around the property.  When there IS someone at the door or a disturbance of some kind outside, Glen is nowhere to be found with not a peep to be heard.

Glen would not make for an adequate decoy either, because the bear would not want to eat him. He is a waif of a dog, a bulimic with anorexic tendencies, and does not have enough meat on his body to be a satisfying meal for a bear.

Who does that leave?  Not Crystal – she would be even less appetizing than Glen. It would be like eating air. Come to think of it, there really is no point to Crystal’s existence whatsoever.

The entirety of her life consists of acting like she is already dead as she floats around in a cup of water. She is pretty, I’ll give her that. (Now, I feel like I could easily go off on a tangent about the pointlessness of vanity, but I will refrain and stick to the topic at hand).

So Crystal is out as a potential source of nutrition for the bear. What’s left? Obviously I have to sacrifice myself for my children, and I guess for Glen too just in case the bear wants to use him as an appetizer before going after his main course: ME.

I don’t think I’m going to be sleeping tonight….