Da Bear


by William Crisp


There I was staring at a blank piece of paper wondering what to write about, when I heard an unusual sound outside. I thought perhaps one of the family was being a little clumsy and knocking around on the porch. Then Delta dog, the scaredy cat, did her bear bark from the most secure place in the house. Raising one eyebrow I got up and wandered to the window. Sure enough, the four hundred pound nuisance was back. We have lived in peace with the bears since the great, “Bear proof trash can arrival and treaty of 2007.” This bear has broken this treaty.

Originally, I thought his premeditated strike on my territory was for my grill, which I must keep secured within an enclosed porch. Occasionally, a bear with a hankering for grease will tear a hole in the porch and tear the top off my grill just to lick the grates. Part of my arrangement has been to burn off the grease after using the grill and then cleaning it to keep any temptation from, “Mr. I’m so sorry but I can’t help myself…’cause I’m a bear” excuse makers.


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