It snowed later that night. The flakes continued to percolate from the heavy clouds as the morning light broke over the dark waters of Pewaukee Lake. They were large and wet; the kind that packed well and made great snowballs; also, the kind that caused heart attacks in old men shoveling it off their walks and driveways. It was beautiful, but beauty never lasts in this world; God, man, and my dog, Bear, see to that.
The snow had been dropping off and on for the past three days and I was questioning the wisdom of my decision to leave Texas and move back to my ancestral state of Wisconsin.
It was only the twenty-ninth of September; a hell of a fall.
I swung my legs out of bed and stood on the cold hardwood floors, the cold traveling from the bottom of my feet to the top of my head. I pulled on my red John Henrys and buttoned up the front and the flap in the back. I pulled on my woolen socks and looked around for my snow suit.
I heard whining. It was coming from under the bed. I bent over and lifted the duster. There it was. Bear, my black tongued, big headed, large pawed mutt was sleeping on it.
Bear is a Saint Bernard mix with a little Chow and Golden Retriever and, according to Hap, a bit of Chihuahua as well. From the smell coming from beneath my bed, there must be skunk lurking in his family tree as well. I don’t know where the Chihuahua came into play, but Hap insists that Bear is bi-lingual. He says he barks in Spanish. One morning I saw a brown clump in the stall between my horses legs. It wasn’t what I thought it was at first because it moved. It would have to be a pretty big worm to get a pile of manure to squirm like that. It was a small brown puppy. It looked like a teddy bear. He was shivering and started to whine when he saw me. I picked him up and brought him into the house and cleaned him up. He had big paws so I knew he would be consuming a lot of food if I kept him and he might grow to be as big as my horse; like my horse, he was pretty cute and I didn’t have the heart to turn him out.
He has the large cranium, red eyes and the white and brown face and sloppy jowls of the Saint Bernard, but he lacks their nobility. His coat and body are the light golden brown of a Golden Retriever. He also has the sweet disposition of a Golden Retriever, which means you can pull and push on him until you are blue in the face and he won’t get angry or annoyed. He also won’t move.
He farts and drools a lot. He weighs close to one hundred and seventy-five pounds and he is still growing. He became my canine, freeloading canine roommate, who just showed up one day and never left.
He had pulled my snowsuit under the bed and used it for his sleeping accommodations. If he hadn’t slept on it, he would have climbed up with me on the bed, eventually forcing me on the floor. He pretty much dioes as he pleases; and, as I said, he won’t move until he is good and ready to move, so maybe there might be some mule in him as well. The mule was showing now as I tried to extricate my snow suit from under his body. He growled in Spanish.
Dogs are supposed to be fun, loving and loyal. I’m not so sure about Bear. He loves to ride in my Edsel. He gets excited when I put the top down; if I don’t, he will continue to paw the passenger side window until I lower it. He will ride with his head stuck out in