Mojo tries t' live a carefree life with few regrets. And usually, she be pretty successful at that, despite that comely wench silly Blog o' Complaints, All Hands Hoay! But thar is a recent moment in time I am now regrettin', with a sort o' vague sadness.
Let us cut t' about a month ago, when I first reported about Problem Bear, and a bucket o' chum. I di'nae name that scurvey dog. The honkin' big red tags stapled t' his ears named that scurvey dog, Ya swabbie, pass the grog! "Problem Bear" is actually a technical term used by Fish & Wildlife folks t' designate a bear that has become habituated to people an' hence become a problem hangin' aroun' houses, dumpin' scallywags's garbage, etc. While some scallywags think 'tis "cute" t' have wild animals eatin' chow off their porches or sniffin' at their window screens, it becomes far less cute when th' animal starts destroyin' property or killin' livestock or frightening defenseless little housewifey ladies.
So anyway, I go out t' try t' scare off Mister Problem Bear, an' when I present meself t' that scurvey dog an' yell at that scurvey dog in me finest Fishwife Voice, he pays me practically no heed. We're about twenty feet from each other, me in me bathrobe tryin' t' yell all scary, an' that scurvey dog eatin' blackberries an' just sort o' lookin' at me betwixt mouthfuls. More Mojo!>>