BANG BANG MY BABY SHOT ME DOWN

One of the most feared attacks in the animal kingdom is from a mama bear who is separated from her cub.

And yesterday, my mama-bear hackles were risen (did rise? rose?) when one of my baby bears was put in danger - there was a shooting right outside her apartment.

Joy lives in a apartment complex, which isn't in the worst section of town (which here is anything west of Seventh St.), but it also isn't a very classy place (because I have to pay the rent).

A lot of lower-income, blue collar employees - quite a few military/transient occupants (sidebar here - I hate hate hate the word "transient" - I think I read "Grapes of Wrath" way too many times), so people in and out every couple of months.

But no matter where you live nowadays, there can be drugs being sold or exchanged - people can become violent - and gun-toting-friendly Arizona, there can be shootings.

Some good came from the incident - Joy learned that she should call 911 before me in any sort of emergency - she understands now that when you hear a gun going off, you do NOT go outside on the balcony to see what is happening - and no, you don't get sent to jail for calling the police and then someone does not get arrested.

Mama bear's fur is still slightly ruffled, but my growling is getting quieter.