My regular readers no doubt recall that I once chased a bear, barking ferociously, until it ran off into the woods. Luckily for all concerned, I didn’t follow it too far.
Now I’ve got my own bear. He doesn’t have a name. He’s just the Bear. And he may always stay that way.
I got the Bear when my friend Lynn drove me over to the other side of the park to see Kiki, who has a toy just like the Bear. Needless to say, I usurped the Bear from Kiki, much to her chagrin. She got back at me later, though, by nagging me to play when I was trying to take a nap. I hate it when that happens.
Recognizing my distress, on the way home Lynn stopped at the dog store, took me inside, loaded up a bag at the treat bar and bought me a bear of my own. The Bear, in fact.
The Bear is a softy on the outside, but he’s got tough skin underneath. He makes crackling noises when I bite his head, and a surprisingly loud honk when I poke his stomach, which is a little too big for me to get my mouth around. Even so, I gotta admit the Bear is cute, and I haven’t let him out of my sight since I got him. I need to keep a close eye on the bear.
Sometimes Mike throws the Bear across the room and I get him and bring him back to Mike. Other times, I just like lying around and gnawing on the Bear’s head, or squirming around with the Bear on the living room rug.
Sometimes the Bear needs to hibernate, and I have to stand watch over the Bear.
Sometimes the Bear and I just writhe around on the living room rug, scratching our backs and reveling in the pure joy of it.
After a while, though. even a stalwart guard gets tired, and when that happens the Bear and I curl up and take a nap together. It’s not as good as a weekend nap with Heather, but it’s close.