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Life with Bear

            He had asked me to go grocery shopping, so I did. He had even written me a list, which he’d color-coded beforehand. Green was most important, blue was mildly important stuff, and orange designated wishy-washy sorts of things.

            The only green item was honey. Blue included things like toilet paper, milk, bread and cereal. The orange section had things like Pop-Tarts, soda and pasta. I only remember all this because I have a photographic memory, and I remember the shapes of the words and the smears of colored highlighter pen, not because I followed the list. In fact, upon receiving the list, I promptly lost it on the way to my car. It’s entirely possible I actually blew my nose into it, come to think of it.

            So when I came back from Safeway an hour later with a gallon of chocolate syrup, a jar of cocktail cherries, beef jerky and 7 lbs. of bacon (to name a few items), he wasn’t exactly pleased.

            “Cat! What the hell is all this?”

            “Groceries, Bear. Aren’t you proud of me? I got everything on your list,” I beamed as I spoke.

            He shuffled through the grocery bags, pulling out things like bricks of cheese, fun-sized Snickers bars, several jars of peanut butter, actual butter, bagels, a reel of produce bags (“What the hell is this, Cat?” “Poo bags for Dup. I got them in the fruit and veggie section.” And then Bear slaps his forehead.), etc., all the while glaring at me and snorting in my general direction.

            “What’s the matter, Bear?”

            “None of this was on my list.”

            “What list?”

            “The list I wrote for you to follow,” he growled.

            “Oh, you mean that list! I lost that list. I think I gave it to a midget or a hobo or someone. They said they needed it more than me.”

            “You’re making that up.”

            “Yes, yes I am,” I replied and hung my head in mock shame.

            “Well, did you at least buy honey?”

            “No, but I got you cherries and Hershey’s syrup instead. I figure they’ll go really well with the Pop-Tarts.”

            Bear sat back on his haunches and scratched his head with his long claws. His wrinkled his snout into a terrible frown and sighed in what I can only guess was extreme irritation. It may have just been fleas, though.

            I followed suit and plopped down on the chair across from him. I, too, frowned, but soon I noticed my tail like I usually do, and I can’t even fully express to you how much that bastard pisses me off sometimes. So, naturally, this led to me chasing my own tail, falling off the chair, and Bear seeming to grow even more irritated.

            “Bear,” I said from the floor.

            “Yes, Cat?” He batted at a fly with a giant paw as he responded.

            “I’m sorry I lost your list.” This time I wasn’t mocking anyone or anything. I really was sorry.

            “I know you are, Cat. It’s ok,” he sighed.

            “You want some bacon?”

            “No thanks, I’m good.”

            “Are you sure? I bought the honey-glazed kind.”

            And then Bear smiled, and my hair-brained shopping trip wasn’t so bad after all.

            The end.

Categories: Fiction
  1. October 12, 2011 at 10:19 pm

    I love this one!!

  2. Lauren Scheier
    October 13, 2011 at 8:58 am

    This is adorable and that picture is too perfect! 😀

  3. Wade Dickinson
    October 13, 2011 at 1:52 pm

    … rabbits love little bears and naughty cats…

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