Way to go, guard dog

Friday afternoon was beautiful here -- clear blue sky, no wind, boats out on the lake and hummingbirds buzzing around the feeders. I poured a big glass of iced tea and Woody and I went out on the deck to enjoy the fresh air and sunshine.

I sat rocking in our deck swing, paging through the latest issue of Backwoods-Dwelling Government-Hating Luddite. Woody was around the corner of the wrap-around deck, out of my sight but apparently trying to work something out of his paws. He’s always barreling headlong through bushes, brambles and briars, and ends up with all kinds of stuff stuck to his coat. Scritch scritch scratch – the sound of paws scraping on something. He’s pretty good at working out wherever gets stuck to him, so I thought I’d leave him to it.

I was soon engrossed in the exciting cover story – “Is it okay to own a computer if you only use it to threaten government officials?” – and in the background I kept hearing Woody. Scritch scritch scratch. Scritch scritch scratch. Finally I decided I’d better give his paws a hand. I put down the magazine and got up to go around the corner to pry out whatever was stuck on him this time.

Take a look at the pic of Woody off to the right. Behind the deck railing is a set of cement and stone steps leading up to our deck. Beyond that there’s nothing but wilderness, trees and the Mission Mountains. Twenty feet behind that barrel of flowers there’s an old tree stump. There was the real source of the scritchy-scratchy noise I’d been hearing – a black bear, delving into the trunk for a snack of bugs and grubs.

Okay, now what? Woody must be asleep or he’d be barking at the bear. The wilderness area is the Forbidden Zone to Woody, but he’s been known to forget about the rules when there’s a critter chase involved. I didn't want him taking off after the bear, so I thought I'd sneak around the corner, wake him up and shoo him quietly into the house.

I go quietly around the corner . . . and there’s Woody, wide awake, bright-eyed, staring intently at the bear with an expression of cheerful interest. He looks at me, like “Looky there, that bear’s hungry, huh? Been watching him for awhile now,” then went back to watching the bear. No chasing, no barking, no attempt at notifying his humans that there’s a frickin’ bear 20 feet away. Way to go, guard dog.

Now the bear’s watching us watch him. I called Woody, opened the patio door and he reluctantly went into the house. “Don’t see why I gotta go in. I was just quietly minding my own business, watching that bear.” Then I grabbed something to shoot the bear. Don’t be silly. I mean my camera. But when I stepped back out on the deck again, he looked up – “oh crap, she’s back.” He ran off before I could snap a picture. Dammit.

I sit out on the deck all the time with a book or a magazine. Hell, Dean lowers the swing down into its fold-out position and naps out there on cool evenings. Nothing to worry about, because our ever-alert guard dog always barks at bears.

Saturday morning, as we had cappuccino out on the deck and took turns keeping an eye out for bears, we decided Woody’s new name is Bearwatcher. Not Bearchaser or even He Who Barks at Bears. More like "He who stares silently at bears with a big goofy grin on his face."

Saturday evening we were having dinner on the deck when Woody decided to play the Running Game. He takes off in a blur of fur, dashing down the steps, stops at the embankment at the edge of our driveway, sticks his head into the thick treeline there and barks a few times just to show off, then trots back upstairs and does it again.

Well, we thought he was just showing off. Then there was a crashing in the trees, and a black bear lumbered out and into the clearing below. Woody came bounding back, ears up, head high, tail high, prancing up the stairs. “See? I can bark at them and chase them off if I want to.”

Okay, you’ve been promoted to “He who sometimes barks at bears.” Way to go, guard dog. I feel semi-safe with you on quasi-alert.

E Pluribus WTF?

A church in the old home town was making a little plot of adjacent land into a park and an uncle wanted the family to donate a fountain or statue to the cause. He selected a hideous thing that looked like a replica of the facade of a courthouse or some type of government building. On the pediment it said "In God We Trust" and "E Pluribus Unum," in lettering that appeared to have been carved by an amateur with a paring knife. It looked like the camp arts-and-crafts project of a particularly untalented child.

Anyway, he liked it and kept insisting it we should buy it. I couldn't figure out why he was so set on something that looked like it was a salute to the U.S. Treasury or the Mint or some damn thing. Odd choice for a church, I thought. But he had a good reason:

"See, it says 'In God We Trust' twice. Once in English and once in French."

I laughed so hard I hurt myself.

My sister-in-law found a more appropriate cherub-y angel-y type thing for the church park. But if you happen to live in the vicinity of Bismarck, North Dakota, check out this beauty. It's probably still available.

A 52-year-old Los Angeles traffic cop is suing Victoria’s Secret for an injury she suffered while putting on what she claims is a defective thong. She says a piece of metal flew off the thong and hit her in the eye, scratching her cornea. It’s easy to say that if you choose to wear a thong bedecked with heart-shaped rhinestones, you’re on your own, but we must consider the danger that defective skanky underwear poses to our nation’s trollops, cross-dressing Congressmen, and seriously deluded 52-year-old traffic cops. A word of advice, hon: stay away from the really dangerous stuff, like underwire bras. You’ll really poke your eye out.

Top 5 other underwear-related lawsuits:

5. Pamela Anderson vs. her ex-husbands and Victoria’s Secret for failure to provide adequate support.

4. Class action lawsuit against Fruit of the Loom for the psychological damage caused by “plumber’s butt.”

3. Another class action lawsuit against Victoria’s Secret on behalf of every woman who ever shopped there because “This $42 bra and $28 pair of panties didn’t make me look exactly like Gisele Bundchen.”

2. William Shatner: Let’s just say the lawsuit contains the phrase “total collapse of the structural integrity field” and leave it at that.

1. Little Billy vs. Spiderman Underoos for failure to include a warning label on the dangers of atomic wedgies.

After only eight years, we’re finally almost done remodeling my office. It’s gone from dark, drafty and dreary to light, bright and cheery. Just a couple little details to finish up and it will be done. So in eight years we’ve actually finished two whole rooms in our house. Our next big plan is for the kitchen so maybe we’ll get that done in a decade or so.

Top five improvements in my new office:

5. The laminate floor, or, as we call it, “Woody’s Slip N Slide.”

4. The cozy fireplace that can be cranked up on snowy days – like June 9, 10 and 11.

3. The adorable squirr fake fur rug.

2. Pellet dispenser full of Skittles that automatically rewards interns for good behavior.

1. The customary Montana greeting system for visitors can be set to fire the warning shot at three heights: “Just saying hello,” “You do realize you’re on our property, don’t you?” and “Sorry, but it’s not my fault you’re so tall. Were so tall.”

Montana and South Dakota, apparently in a dead heat for national irrelevancy, held the last two primary elections in the country this week. Despite Obama’s win in Montana, Ron Paul did surprisingly well, garnering 20 percent among those who chose a Republican ballot. His supporters didn’t do quite so well at our polling place. Earlier in the day they had set up a table right in front of the door to the high school and had half a dozen volunteers annoying working the crowd. By the time I voted late in the afternoon, they had apparently been told that their Libertarian liberties don’t extend to politicking at the polling place. Two rather forlorn-looking guys were sitting on the boulevard by the curb in folding chairs with a Ron Paul sign at their feet. Hey, cheer up guys – 20 percent’s pretty good. You’re closing in on Dubya’s new record-low approval rating of 25 percent!

Top five results of the Montana primary:

5. Confused voters trying to write in Montana Libertarian Stan Jones, aka “the blue guy,” accidentally gave the senate nomination to Blue Man Group.

4. Voters approved a controversial new health care plan based on the medicinal properties of knoephle soup and cheeseburgers.

3. No gun control initiatives on the ballot, as usual. Hey, our voter pool contains people like this guy.

2. For the tenth straight time, we voted “No” on invading Idaho. So Mike, you’re safe. FOR NOW.

1. For the first time, we voted “Sure, why not?” on invading North Dakota. So Mike, you’re getting out just in time.