It wasn' too long after this that Loki had his second run in with the local wildlife, and so did we.It was the middle of another cold night
on Lake Anslie. We were sleeping the deep slumber of the hypothermic when we were disturbed by Loki rooting around, frantically digging and shoving, trying to find an unsecured corner by which he could make his way
under the covers. Highly irritated at having been awakened in the dead of of a firgid night, we grabbed him and shoved him under the covers, where he crouched shivering, and sunk back into our dreams.
The next morning
dawned bright and beautiful. The sun beating down on the canvas was already warming the tent to suffocating levels, so we didn't hang around under the covers.
Loki did, however.
We could not coax him from the bed.
He would not budge. Not even the rattling of his treat bag could move him. He simply wasn't coming out.
Strange behaviour indeed, but the coffee was calling--tap water or not--so I made the bed up around him and we
headed to the other room. And it was then that we discovered what had transpired in the night.
Loki was not a cold kitty at all. Loki was a frightened kitty. Loki had seen a bear.
There, in the side of our tent, was
the evidence...several sets of paw-shaped tears that could only have been made by the one visitor who was not welcome at our makeshift abode.
Whilst we were traversing the land of dreams, reality had been slavering
not ten feet away.
Oh. My. God!
What kept that bear from tearing his way through the wall, we will never know. Perhaps he was as startled to see Loki as Loki was to see him.
Whatever the reason, we weren't about
to risk a second, potentially fatal visit. We'd spent our last night in the tent. After reoprting the rogue bear, we were invited to take up residence in Loki's empty trailer, and we wasted no time accepting.
As it
happened, we would only be there for two nights. The Fates had other plans for us.
