09/27/2023
As I walked through our neighborhood with my old Lab, Bear, and little Beagle, Annie Oakley, we were attacked by a Doberman and Pit Bull that burst out of a house when their owner opened the door. My dogs were on a leash and his were not. The Doberman charged me barking with his eyes locked on mine. There was no time to react. At the last second, Bear jumped out in between us and snapped at the crazy dog. The Pit Bull came at us next and Bear stopped him, too. The owner screamed out the dogs' names and they completely disregarded him. The two dogs pursued us as we backed up slowly. The only thing that could have protected me was the end of the extendable leash. I had to swing at the Doberman as he charged again. Once again, Bear put the dog in it's place. Finally the owner, after swearing and screaming at the dogs, finally called them off. The aggression ran through my head as we walked away and it became clear that Bear was my hero that day.
He was a rescue from Larimer County Humane Society and was an absolute troublemaker from day one when he ate half a bag of dog food, a remote control, my notebook, and Tom's Grandfather's mounted squirrel. Over the past 12 years, he has swallowed and puked up hundreds of socks and then sometimes he ate them again. Bear has run miles and miles throughout CO, MT, and now IL. He's not as fast as he used to be when he does his "happy run," but he still has the same happy smile when he's done. He's a good cuddler and a fierce protector of our mailbox and now of me and little Annie. I'm thankful that Tom allowed us to go to look for a dog to adopt the summer I broke my foot working a landscaping job to cheer me up. For all the muffins he's stolen off the table and all the teddy bears he torn up, he's still my good dog, Bear Bear.