I think I am not a very fearful person, at heart, but one potential doom that keeps me up some nights is being eaten by a bear.
Since I average eleven of twenty four hours of every day sitting at a computer, you’d think I’d work on more reasonable fears, like Repetitive Strain Injuries. But places where I like to hike do have bears, and, in our fairly civilized country, bears are some of the last wild threats — along with cougars, rattlesnakes and slobbery Labrador retrievers at the dog park. It’s those nights spent camping that I think about being eaten by bear.
It’s not a huge worry, I realize. Bears don’t preferentially hunt people, usually, as my XY reminds me. Still… One late night of camping, I heard a rustling in the brush coming closer. “It could be a bear,” I hissed at my sleeping XY. “I love you,” he mumbled.
At least I knew that before we were fatally mauled.
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