This adventure ended with the bear getting off his back legs and ambling away. Didn’t run. He ambled.
Sue, meantime, stayed on her hind legs and Buster on his four legs and they didn’t slowly amble back to the trailer.
Consequently, their walk was postponed for twenty minutes. Some folks might have delayed it for a day, a week, a month or even got out of Dodge City altogether.
Of course, first off, Buster had to stop at the cat house and take a gander at the kitty cats before we continued on with our hike. And after that was completed to his satisfaction, we were back to putting our boots to the gravel.
Our neighbour then drove up in his large pick-up, so we chatted and swatted bugs.
Suddenly, while we were in mid-conversational-stride, we were startled by the sound of a speeding engine. Within seconds an old guy was roaring his vehicle around the corner, his brakes only a distant thought.
I quickly tightened up on Buster’s leash and pulled him to the side of the road while the neighbour pulled his truck to the other side of the road.
I hurried through the bug-infested long grass to find out what was wrong and discovered that poor Buster had stapled his front paw to barbed wire.
I flung down my walking stick and began trying to figure out how to disengage his paw. It was tough. If I pulled his paw up it might further entrap it. Moving his paw forwards or backwards might also exasperate things and cause Buster more pain. What I did do was gently wiggle his paw sideways and up and down, and however it happened, Buster was able to pull his paw free.
When we reached the Cabot Trail, a huge tourist bus roared by. On the side of the bus was written, in large letters, CHRISTIAN TOURS.
Buster telepathically said, “I believe, Larry, that those good folks are going to a Cape Breton Christian church for a Sunday service.”
Once again I tightened up on Buster’s leash and pulled him off the road. And this is no word of a lie. It was the same old gaffer, driving the same old vehicle and he was going over the speed limit. And, get this, he was backing up.
I waved and Buster wagged at him and I think he must have waved back because there was a noticeable swerve in his backing- up trajectory. We were witnessing skill at a high level.
“I wonder,” Buster said telepathically, “if there is a different speed limit for driving backwards?”
I pondered on this.
Buster and I finally arrived home, where Buster telepathically said, “Larry, I think you forgot your walking stick back at the barbed wire emergency.”
I concurred and said some other words.