This morning we had a Bear Jamboree in the backyard. It’s not my fault. Or even Hank’s. And MomPeople should not comment about how much we bark at DeliveryTruckPeople to scare them away but didn’t bark once about the bears.
I have an excellent theory on why bears would think it was okay to show up in our backyard. How about it’s because a certain MomPeople talked DadPeople into nailing up many No Hunting posters all over our property. Maybe she should have just printed up a big Welcome Bears sign to invite the bears over.
Being very upset about the bears, OurPeople declared it unsafe for Hank and I to get our morning walk through the woods and meadows. No bear hunting. I’m good with that.
MomPeople has declared that all bird feeders will be taken inside each night to discourage the bears. For a PeoplePerson, she’s smarter than you’d think. Or not. We’ll see.
So after MomPeople had her big fall-apart when the bears cleaned out the bird feeders. DadPeople asked me, because I’m an American Fox Hound, if I smelled the bears. I chose not to discuss it. If a critter is bigger and scarier than I am, I smell no evil. And Mama Bear is at least three hundred pounds bigger than even Hank.
I did give DadPeople a sneeze to suggest I might have a cold in my sniffer. Which is obviously why I couldn’t make a fuss over this morning’s visit by Mama and the two cubs.
DadPeople is giving me a skeptical look. I need to go wipe my nose on Hank.
Just Saying,
Rufus and Hank
