The ink of the night presses in upon us. Scrub and I huddle behind the shadowy hulk of my boat resting forlornly on its trailer in our driveway. Moments before we had been part of a different world….a world with televisions blaring harsh reports of terror and disaster to audiences of dirty dishes rotting in sinks. A world of kids complaining of unfair homework assignments. A world where beepers buzz electronic complaints issued from distant computers and electric lights obscure the Alaskan night. Scrub, being of the canine persuasion, never really fit into such a world and thus nuzzled me into taking our nightly walk in his world. Now we find ourselves in the darkness of the approaching winter listening with a mixture of fear and curiosity as teeth or claw shredded lumber and metal just outside our field of vision.
“Who goes there?” I demand, trying to sound like the confident king of my world. The night’s sudden silence was my only answer.
“Is it a bear?” I whisper to Scrub but his only response is a wet lick of my hand reassuring me that I really am the king and thus all must be right in the kingdom as far as he is concerned.
“Geeezz! I live in town. Certainly a bear wouldn’t be stalking me here. Then again this is ALASKA, and this certainly does seem to be the year of the bear.” It began in spring when I watched the “bear” market eat any hopes of an early retirement. This was followed by that June night when my boat broke down miles from the nearest road and those giant grizzly tracks marked off the area where my son and I would be pitching our tent. August had brought that whole family of bruins which raided our backpacks while chasing my son and I away from the best salmon fishing holes along the Talkeetna river. “Hmm, maybe the bears are even stalking me in my own neighborhood now.!
Gathering my courage I reach into my boat and retrieve a flashlight. Boldly I step forward into the darkness and stab at the light's switch. Much to my relief the batteries are still good and a bright yellow beam shoots into the darkness. My heart stops as I see two red eyes mirrored back at me along the edge of the cone of light but it restarts a moment later when I realize the eyes belong to my neighbor’s dog. His chain is tangled and his bowl of moose bones is stuck just out of reach under the corner of his wooden doghouse. Feeling much more like a king I walk over to him, untangle his chain and retrieve his food bowl.
Scrub and I continue our walk under the darkness of the approaching winter once again confident that all is well in the real world as long as one is not tangled in chains and has in possession a warm bowl of bones.
