Little Bear, Part 1 Introduction

I first saw my next dog, after Sadie, in the back of my neighbor’s pickup. It was a very small Japanese pickup. It was a very large dog. At first sight I actually thought he had a large load covered with dark canvas. Then it moved. It was a very, very large dog. I watched mesmerized until he turned off at his street. I went on home, but I was intrigued. What a moose in dog fur.

My next sighting of this dog was again when she was in the back of the truck. My neighbor was stopped at a stop sign. I pulled up behind him, and honked and signaled and opened my door and got out. He opened his door and turned to talk to me.

I pointed and asked, “What is that?”

“My dog.” That I’d figured out as it didn’t look like a cow.

“What kind?” I asked.

“A Neufie.” He answered.

“A neufie?” I was not connecting the dots.

“Newfoundland Retriever.”

“That’s got to be the biggest dog I’ve ever seen.”

“Little Bear? No. She’s just a runt. That is why I have her.”

“Runt?” At times my conversations can be sparkling. This, obviously, was not one of those times.

“I’ve got to go.”

I’d only exaggerated slightly. I had seen one larger dog in California. A bear dog. My neighbor there hunted black bear with his one dog. His dog was a monster. It was enormous with feet like dinner plates and it had the biggest head I’ve ever seen on any dog, including Great Danes and St. Bernards. This dog chased the bear into a tree, kept it there, and when the bear was shot, if it didn’t die quickly, it had a more unpleasant experience waiting for it on the ground.

At some later date my curiosity got the better of me and I went calling. I wanted to know about a “runt” that size. She was AKC, he had the papers. However, the breeder had decided that she didn’t conform to breed standards as an adult, so he had her spayed and had sold her as a family pet. Her name in French was about as long as my arm, and I never learned to say it.

I said something like, “My God, she must weigh a ton! A runt?”
“No. That’s mostly just hair that you see. She’s tall enough, but under all that mop, she only weighs about 125 pounds.”

It was true, under all that hair was a skinny dog. Tall, with a big head and big feet, but skinny. She was in very good condition. She loved the western Washington evergreen rain forest woods of our area with all of its swamps and beaver ponds. There was over a thousand acres of such undeveloped and unlogged woodlands just north of our home at that time. She didn’t eat all that much, and ran off most of what she ate. The hair suit likely helped in keeping her weight down by holding in heat and acting as a heavy set of sweats.

Bear was big, and yet she was young and could still bounce like a pup. She was agile and controlled in her movements. She glistened, with highlights on her glossy black hair. She had very tight eyelids, white teeth, and a gallon bucket sized pink tongue. She like kids, but tended to intimidate them because of her size.

(c) Copyright 2006: George Wallace recently published a book on religion which lashes out at nearly all of the comfortable ideas about God, the trappings of organized religion, and the priesthood. His pithy comments and suggestions for a return to a God-centered personal religion will interest everyone. This article may be freely reprinted so long as all copyright attributions, and the full content of this resource box are included. www.OhGodIsThatYou.com

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