Photo: Beer paws in the air...

"It's simple," Bob the Welder said, "All you need to protect yourself from bears hereabouts is a taser." I was impressed and, of course, eager to own one. "And I can sell you the lightweight model for only fifty bucks." Bob showed me his, which was square shaped and pocket sized, easily clipped to your belt for rapid deployment in the event of a sudden bear attack.

Several folk in the Office Bar had already related to us the tale of the unfortunate local who'd been dragged into the bushes by a frenzied grizzly bear in a bad mood. Just next to Collet's Cupboard in fact, the ubiquitous wooden shack that served as Hoonah's general store. Although, as Marie pointed out, no one could recollect who the unlucky victim was and the mauled individual's gender mysteriously changed depending upon who was telling the tale. Nevertheless, I eagerly purchased my taser from Bob and I noticed that everyone who sat at the bar had their tasers neatly positioned on the rear of their belts too. I was, without doubt, now one of the fellas.

You may ask why am I telling you this? Well, just a few days later, Marie and I stumbled out of the bar and walked the long walk back towards the harbour floats. It was just turning to dusk when suddenly, to our absolute terror, a black bear sprang out of the forest just before us, right in our path and only feet away. We both screamed in abject horror and I, to my lasting surprise, stood frozen to the spot. Marie reacted quickly by releasing the taser and aiming it right in the bear's direction, with absolute accuracy and determination I'll forever admire. The bear rolled over onto its back and lay motionless, its feet in the air.

Only at that point did we see it wasn't a bear. It was someone's pet dog. When I gingerly inched forward I could see its collar and a name tag. 'Blackie' it stated, with the owner's name who, it transpired, we both knew well. Blackie lay silent, unconscious, but breathing slowly. We were both shocked and quickly had to decide what to do. We discussed our options and, perhaps on hindsight not our best course of action, we decided to leave the scene and so therefor ran off as fast as we could.

The next day everyone was talking about the dog which had mysteriously been found unconscious by the roadside the night before. We think it made a full recovery although Bob the Welder, who we believe suspected the truth all along, told us a few days later he'd heard the dog was still in a coma. In his opinion, he said with a knowing glint in his eye, Blackie the dog might have been accidentally tasered by foreign folk probably not used to confronting bears.

We both nodded in easy agreement and said we'd listen out for any incriminating talk.
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