Just Another Day? That's One Way To Look At It...

Well, against all odds it would seem, I did manage to get a decent amount of sleep last night. Not as much as I would have liked, but definitely enough to get by. Thanks at least in part to Albert, my big, furry, sometimes roommate (He's a black bear. Really). He actually saved my life twice. Once on Friday night, when a vanishing spider attacked me in the middle of the night. Ah, you never heard of a vanishing spider. I wouldn't expect you to know of this rare, ugly arachnid, since outside of Little Valley (the place I come from) there aren't any. And they are extremely rare within Little Valley. Which does lead me to believe that this had been a special delivery from someone, or something, from my place of origin. By the way, they are called vanishing spiders because, like chameleons, they have the ability to completely blend into their backgrounds. They also are lethally poisonous.

Anyroad, I started to wake when I felt something land on top of the bed covers. I didn't bolt awake because as big as these ugly things are, they aren't all that heavy. But the next thing I felt did a lot more than completely wake me up. Something tried to punch a hole through one of my kidneys (I was sleeping on my stomach, as usual). And that, was Albert. It seems, at least according to my bearish friend, that bears have a very sharp sense of hearing. He had not only heard the spider plop down on top of the covers as it landed on top of me, but he also heard it creeping softly across the ceiling before it dropped. So, he killed the spider with one blow. But I was under that blow, which left me incapacitated, but loudly moaning, with a very bruised lower back. 

Now, this attack did worry me. But maybe not as much a it should have. Which is why it was a good thing that Albert decided to keep an eye on me. So, three nights (more or less) later, I was having another tough time finding my way to dreamland. This would have been late Monday night, or to be more accurate, in the wee hours of Tuesday Morning. I took it into my head to go jogging to make up for missing a couple of days of exercising. The little track I jog on is somewhat isolated, and except for one street light at the far end of a parking lot which on the side of the field, it is completely unlit. Pretty darn dark, actually. But I have jogged there for close to ten years, and could do it with my eyes closed. Well, maybe with my eyes closed. I'm not going to try it.

Anyway, there I am jogging along, breathing like a freight train (do freight trains breath?), and I get hit (but this time it's not Albert) in the back of the neck, knocking me to the ground. When I roll over in an effort to start getting to my feet, I am looking up at myself. Yup, it's evil me. The guy, or thing, that looks like me, but makes my skin crawl when I look at him. Or it. He/it takes advantage of my shock, and plants a foot on my chest to immobilize me. Sometime around then, I see he (it) is holding a rather large, and sharp looking knife. I am seeing all this, but my brain has stopped functioning. But I haven't seen anything, yet. His unpleasantly smiling face drops towards me like a silent falling moon, when, in my state of complete disconnect, I hear a growl, and instead of seeing that knife sink into my chest, it disappears in front of my eyes, along with the hand of my doppleganger (I believe it's a German term for a double, someone who looks exactly like someone else). I am showered with the blood of my evil twin, who has disappeared from my immediate vicinity. It seems I owed my life to Albert a second time. You see, he decided to follow me, and act as an unseen protector of sorts. He doesn't think humans are very smart, and that would include me. But whereas it wouldn't actually bother him for most adult humans to meet their demise (die), he feels he owes me something for sharing my humble abode with him. He also has a soft spot for children. That probably has something to do with the little girl who rescued him when he was a young cub. 

And there you have it. That's pretty much the whole story of how Albert saved my life twice. He hasn't said too much about it, other than to say that even though he did spit the hand out (he bit it completely off, which may be why my would be assassin ran off so quickly) immediately after, he still has a really bad taste in his mouth. Off course, I am giving a rough translation. I can't use the kind of language he did, since my Mother reads this blog. 

But, we both have recovered. He more quickly than I, it would seem. And although yesterday did not see me in a good frame of mind, today was actually a pretty decent day. So, life goes on. At least for the moment...