I was trying fruitlessly to drag my dog out of poison oak while listening to The All-American Rejects merrily singing, “Gives You Hell”* when the neighbor lady came streaking out of her house and down the driveway. I stared at her for a moment as she frantically waved her arms and mouthed “Stop!” repetitively. Because my dog chose this precise moment to take an elephantine crap in the middle of her thoughtfully tended patch of poison oak, I assumed I was about to be shamed, publicly, for not tending to my animal’s defecation.
“You be careful!” She bellowed as soon as my ipod bud fell from my ear canal. I blinked. Careful… of the poison oak? Could it spread up my dog’s rectum? Because if so, I’d be damned if I was going to rub fucking calomine lotion on her callused corn hole.
“Did you watch the news this morning?” She demanded. Clearly, she had me confused with someone who wore a helmet indoors and who did not hold the local news in utter contempt for their ridiculously named, FUTURE Doppler Radar, a cringe-inducing cooking segment with a legally retarded person, and a crew of newscasters fucksticks who had been renamed all with double names, i.e. “Randy McRandall” and “Neill McNeill.”
“Er, sorry?” I sputtered, looking deliberately away from my gleefully unrepentant dog who was taking her potty break as reverently and slowly as if she’d just been informed of the “good news.”
“Didn’t you hear about the BEAR?” The neighbor lady exclaimed, hands on hips, furious at me, I was relieved to note, for my lack of bear awareness, vs. being irate with my loathsome creature companion, who was now back-pedalling the woman’s petunia bed in a spastic effort to cover up her shit pile in the poison oak patch.
“The… what?!” I finally tuned in. “Did you say, ‘BEAR’?” The woman nodded emphatically, more excited than worried, which frankly worried me.
“Yes! There is a 100 lb. bear roaming up and down this road! And you know, just down the street is that big pond with all those woods. I bet that’s where he’s hanging out. Didn’t you see the news?” I bit back my critique of our tragedy of a local news station and began looking about me furtively…. you know… for the FUCKING BEAR. She finally seemed to notice my dog, who had considerately laid down in the morning heat, crushing a hesitantly blooming nest of impatiens with her 20 lbs of doggy obliviousness. “The bear will eat that little dog of yours,” she added, judgmentally, I thought. Lizzy just rolled over and wagged her tail happily at this news, utterly unconcerned about a) her dignity, b) the poor flowers, and c) the goddamn BEAR that would devour her.
“Have they called animal control?” I asked weakly. The woman nodded, delighted to be a source of information, so rapt in her new authority that she would continue to fail to notice the steaming heap of excrement on her lawn, or so I fervently hoped.
“Oh yes. They shot the otherbear last night. But there is still one at large,” She said, raising a single index finger at me significantly. We both contemplated this for a long, leery moment, and then she brightened. “Ok, well, you be careful now. See you later — if the bear doesn’t see you first!” She chortled jokily before traipsing off back into the relative safety of her house, leaving me to the long, deserted stretch of road that probably contained bear tracks just up ahead and around the bend.
"Oh Hai! I will totally fuck up your day!"
* Perhaps the greatest video of our generation:
Wait a second, 100 lbs? A bear? That’s either a cub or a really small adult. I don’t think I could have not snarked at this woman. Or been as oblivious as your dog was.
P. S. Gives You Hell is a great song indeed.
Right? Tiny for a bear. So a whole city in turmoil over Pooh, or similar, I imagine.
Why did they shoot the first bear? Did he/she maul someone undeserving?
If the mauled party had it coming, I say fuck ‘em.
If the bear was just tramping about, I see no reason to shoot him/her.
As an aside, if the bear were to see you and the harpy and decide to give chase, could you outrun said harpy?
1. The cops actually shot the bear because they are, well, cops. Who are generally slow-witted by nature and, in this town, seem to be trained from a manual made of soft, chewable pages.
2. Could totally outrun the harpy, probably with terrified dog in arms. Also, would not hesitate to shove her into the oncoming bear-path, as it were, to take one for “the team” (in this case, “the team” is me and Lizzy)…
I’ll pull for the bear then.
Oh, we’re all totally pulling for the bear.
Yeah, I have to say I’m rooting overwhelmingly (if that’s a word) for the bear. I hope he eats the lady. And the cops who shot what was probably his mother.
Gee, I’m in a bad mood. I need a cocktail.
I’m never in a bad mood. But I always need a cocktail.
“Fuck tha Police” anyone?
Add that to your iPod with “Gives You Hell.”
Shuffle.
I love the AAR! Hope you don’t get eaten by the bear!!! Scary!!
If I get eaten, I’ll be so pissed.
You’ll be pissed at first, but then you’ll be shat.
We’ll see the last of you on one of those inane Charmin commercials.
You could make a path of picnic baskets to neighbor lady’s house…Boo Boo gets lunch and neighbor lady stays inside.
I like the way your mind works, Dan my good man.