Ever since I was a kid, I wanted a bearskin rug. Wanted to see it lying in front of a fireplace, my toes snuggling in the fur as I watched the flames. The final touch: snowflakes hissing against the windowpanes.
It isn't snowing yet (!!!), but a Craigslist buy got my wish: a cinnamon brown bear rug. A Colorado bear. He needs his 'armpits' restitched, but a leather needle and silk thread will take care of that.
We were wondering what Charles and Abby would do, when confronted with this guy. Much to our surprise, Abby was blase about it. She took a nap on top of it the first afternoon.
|'Lovin' this, Mom!'|
But Charley -- now, that's a different story.
He will go by it if forced to...or if we're sitting on the couch nearby. Otherwise, he wants nothing to do with this alien thing. I suspect he realizes it was an animal once -- and not a friendly one. Probably he's smelled it before. Bears occasionally wander into our neighborhood, mostly to check out the garbage cans. We've never seen them, but our neighbor across the street had one in their garage late one night. (We have a six-foot chainlink fence around our property -- and two dogs with big mouths. Fortunately for our chickens.)
|One eye is still open. 'Can I get up yet?'|
Abs, on the other hand, could care less.
I'm just glad to have a childhood dream achieved.
Now for the next item on the list: a round-the-world cruise.
|'Can I get up yet? Please? Please?'|