But first, Gandy had a play date with the cute little bear cub.
It was the scenario we dreaded for 15 summers, prepared for–once upon a time–but figured would never really happen in real life as we know it.
So no whistle. No walkie-talkie. No bear spray. No Ruger .44 short-barrel brush rifle. Just a skinny she-dog and her skinny human side dish.
Ann and dog are as far back in the valley as you can get on our land in the rugged parts of northeast Floyd County, and a momma bear and cub cross their path. It’s summer, after all, and the berries are getting ripe. Dog gives chase.
Heck, why not? These are, after all, only animated versions of the twenty-five-cent stuffed toys from Angels in the Attic, right? You can get to the white fluffy stuffing in five minutes or less. Let’s do it!
After all, the little one is about the size of her creek play buddy, the 130 pound golden retriever, Jesse. So Gandy, unfettered by fear or the sting of experience, leapt at the larger bear’s bare bear butt. Wife was terrified and vocal about it.
So the dog, sensing the alarm, came down the side of the hillside and broke off the chase.
But the mother bear, having deposited little Teddy a safe distance away, turns and heads down the steep hillside in pursuit of the pitiful little rodent that had the nerve to threaten her baby.
Our drill paid off: In the flash of terror with an approaching bear, Ann flailed her arms and shrieked and hooted and was generally so obnoxious that the bear decided she’d rather be back up on the top of the ridge where things are quieter and free of rodent-dogs.
Did the episode likely make the clueless caninc think twice before doing such a fool thing again?
What do you think?
IMAGE: Black Raspberries ripen along Goose Creek below the barn, wild hydrangea included in this natural floral arrangement. These bushes, by the way, are somewhere between home and the Atlantic now. But that is part of a developing story. More soon.