This morning's dog walk lead to the sight above. I almost wonder what the neighbors think, but heck it isn't 1950, and I'd like to see them raise a kid out of foster care.
What lead to Rose sitting outside in her jammies is irrelevant. What does matter is the realization I am living with a bear. There are times when we are talking and suddenly the little bear seems poked. Me, the accidental and baffled instigator outside her cage.
I pause, trying to pull the stick back to calm the bear. It rarely works. Once Rose's brain has launched into argument (fight) mode, poker beware. Suddenly, the bear roars and claws at the cage non stop about everything.
I helplessly stand outside the metal bars, then my fight instinct kicks in. I am, after all, a woman, and a first born, and Irish, and a granddaughter to a stubborn and amazing woman...so I don't back down from a challenge easily.
In the last three years, I have leaned to be better than that. To put my stick away, which is what I pretty much did today. It's so lovely out, the warm air made me peaceful. Even after the bear felt so provoked she threatened to choke me, I maintained my composure. Yay, me!
Hence, angry little bear sits alone outside gathering her thoughts as I drink coffee and eat a doughnut. Not to say there won't be consequences for bear's threats. It's just a good feeling to know today this poker didn't get a bigger stick.
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