Just as I was getting ready to write a warm and fuzzy tale about two dogs that worship my bride yet consider me a barely tolerable air-breather, with opposable thumbs, who provides them doorknob access to exterior delicate duties, it started raining bears.
Point in fact. W.B. of Anchor Point, wrote: "Yo, Nick. I remember a column that you wrote dealing with a black bear that had somehow manipulated its way into the back of a sealed camper shell that you had just loaded with garbage to take it to the dump the next morning. From what I recall, you ended with a mess but dealt with the beast without turning it into lunch meat. I had the same thing happen to me today. What did you do? I don't want to hurt it."
What, the bear or the truck?
Well, W.B., I tried to be nice once but made the mistake of writing about it.
I hung around until the bruin came back the next night and then ambushed it with a 1.5 million candle power spotlight. I waited until the little beast climbed up on the rear bumper of my rig and then did a ninja skulk out onto the deck and whistled. When the hairy sack of scat looked toward the source of the sound I blasted it between the eyes with the beam. It let out a sound like "yauggh-waadaf," did a header off the bed, spun around and skull-smacked every alder on down to the beach because it was temporarily blind.
I've never had trouble with it again.
I considered my solution was righteous until a nice guy from Alaska Department of Fish and Game wrote a congratulatory note about the article. Especially for not turning the beast into rump roasts. But then he noted I could be fined $100 for having the garbage in the truck.
"You're welcome," I thought. "Next time around that intrusive puppy will definitely be taking up freezer space and I'll launch a serious search for crock-pot recipes."
So, anyway, W.B., if you're not interested in succulent black bear-back ribs but don't want to give it a "can't we all just try and get along" head pat either, I'd suggest ...
No wait. Contact Fish and Game, that way you'll be informed what is politically correct if a bear is trying to steal your new Cabelas hiking boots with your feet still attached.
Quickly moving along; Calls and e-mails about local black bears and grizzly incidents kept flowing into our Unhinged Alaska contact points. Why? I don't have a clue.
Other weird queries wanted to know vital things such as "Why does the media continue to be interested in Levi Johnston?"
As of mid August he became the first wanna-be celebrity to register a baseline negative IQ during a TV interview and confirmed suspicions that he should be put into the custody of his pets.
Another report: A certain family out East Road was puzzled when they spotted a couple of "odd looking mutts" munching on their exterior hot tub, especially when they owned light-colored beagles that were supposedly locked up in the garage.
The critters turned out to be bear cubs and the Beags were cleared but still resent the suspicion.
Still at large: Extremely rude Urus americanus that also ended up demolishing their perfectly good grill with mom leading the pack.
Same area, two weeks ago: A cool lady, tending to her landscaping, takes a break and goes inside. Moments later, she hears a ruckus and a massive moose roars through the area she had just been cultivating.
So, what's unusual about a thundering moose? We all know that they are idiots and will stampede at the sound of a bee's fart, right?
The drama comes from the fact that a grizzly was in hot pursuit. If our lady hadn't decided to get a drink of water, she would have been stomped into cottage cheese by a panicked ungulate and then into a side-dish by a horribilis in full snacking mode.
It would have made great theater but suck big time for the victim.
If you need any info about bears, try Googling. You'll find a cornucopia of information on preventing attacks and suggestions on how others will be able to identify your remains if you should choose the "shoo bear" verbal admonishment technique developed by the now extinct PETA branch of the Bear Bonding Belly Scratch Society.
I'm done here. Our tiny emergency back-up pretend dog has to go outside. I have to provide a special escort with my anti-raptor dissuaders so she doesn't suddenly go inelegantly airborne during mid squat.
As for my old dog Howard? One needs not worry. A cargo chopper couldn't lift him and even grizzlies flee his breath.
Nick can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.
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