Think about it. You really do have to admire cats for their courage. Their diminutive size alone makes their cultivation of human alliances fairly courageous. Their tolerance of human stupidity is endearing.
Our formerly feral cats seem very smart. I don’t know whether their innate intelligence helped them survive in the wild, or if surviving in the wild enhanced their intelligence. I do know neither of them would be stupid enough to leave smelly things exposed in bear country like this brave cat’s humans did:
It took some time after Dodge adopted us before she became comfortable sitting in my lap. She was initially very nervous in front of the television, though she eventually realized my television viewing often created lap opportunities for her.
During her first year with us, I started watching a nature program while petting her. The nature program was about black bears with some very clear footage of a black bear walking toward the camera. When Dodge noticed the television bear, she stood in my lap and growled. As she continued to watch, she first moved to the chair arm and then to the floor beside the chair. She alternated focusing on the bear and looking at my face while vocalizing short bursts of alarm to make sure I’d also noticed the bear.
She could not smell the bear, of course, so she was uncertain, but she was clearly familiar with the visual configuration of a black bear. Was this instinctual? Or had she dealt with bears during her forest life? We’ve speculated that may be what happened to the rest of her litter. (When Dodge first arrived at our house, Dart was her only remaining kitten.)
But whatever the reason, it was obvious Dodge wanted nothing to do with bears. Even so, she stayed by my side, coaxing, until she convinced me to leave with her. How stupid was I anyway?
At that point in our relationship, Dodge still
identified outdoors as the safest haven from any perceived threat, so per her wishes, I let her out onto the deck. (If you’re thinking she only coaxed me out of the chair so she could get outside – she also had a cat door she could have used.)
I followed her outside and the first thing she did was walk furtively to the north end of the deck where she peeked carefully around the corner of the house, so she could see the opposite corner (which the television backs up to). She was apparently checking to see if the bear was still out there. Perhaps her understanding of broadcast vs. live bears was limited, but her accurate spatial orientation between the inside and the outside of the house surprised me. So did her loyalty and courage.

Wild Geese by 

He was staring at me and I stared back, initially asking myself “is that a bear or just low-light shadow play?” Once I focused more carefully, there was no doubt. I walked (swiftly) back down to the house contemplating whether to bother with the camera – light was fading fast.
I’m sure he was just trying to establish his own territory which he’ll soon find somewhere else – compliments of WSDOT and State Wildlife agents.
but I wasn’t inclined to set up a tripod today and Griz was down the driveway clearing snow with the tractor. I still have the purple sled, though, and I used it today coming back down the hill from checking the pump house lights. Sledding on that plastic sled gives me the giggles every time – a great way to regain my sense of humor when the hassles of snowfall start to outweigh the peaceful splendor.







