I have one great story that I love to tell about Mar. Back when I working days as a paraprofessional, taking night classes, and waitressing part-time, my beloved Wilson appeared at the door with porcupine quills in his muzzle. Mar was staying with me at the time, and because Bruce had just left for work, Mar assisted me in removing the quills. Wilson was a trooper and all was well. That evening I announced that I needed to learn how to shoot a gun because I was going to protect Wilson from further trauma. Bruce grabbed the smallest rifle he had and set a beer can on a post. I knocked the can off after the second shot and announced I was ready if need be.
Now Mar was just sitting back taking this all in until one day she spotted a porcupine in the field. She brought this to my attention quite exuberantly. I was heading out the door to attend a class in Manchester, but I knew I had to put my money where my mouth was. I'm pretty sure Mar did not think I would deliver.
So picture this: me standing in the middle of the field dressed in office attire, placing the one tiny bullet into the shaft of the rifle, taking aim at a really cute porcupine that was enjoying a feast of clover. I pulled the trigger and the little guy fell over dead as a door nail.
To Mar, I called myself Annie Oakley. On the way to class that evening, I cried like a baby! Oh, and Bruce had to take care of the critter, which when he did, he discovered something quite extraordinary, but that's another story.