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January 2023
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Why I love Bear, part a

I have no idea where I am in this series, if there’s even a counting scheme going anymore at this point.

Today, Bear is having one of his Sad Days. I realize this is a childish and unfair label to stick on days like these, but it works in my head. I’m not going to invade his privacy by talking about what days like this are, just give a little background into why I’m mentioning my love for Bear on a day like today. Usually when Bear has a day like this, he says shit. My responses vary. Sometimes I ignore the words, but give him extra hugs or cuddles or space. Sometimes I argue with him, despite it never actually effecting any kind of change in his mood. Sometimes I give him a look and a “hai, hai.” with an attitude that clearly conveys how little sense I think he’s making.

I realize that some of these responses are probably utterly wrong. I realize that at times I am not helpful and at times am possibly harmful. The difficulty is that sometimes one response will actually nudge him in a good way and sometimes that same response will make it worse. After seven years, the best I can do is to just go with what I’m feeling.

Today, completely out of tune with his Sad Day, my response to Bear’s bonecrushing despair was to enumerate how much and how many ways I love him. Why I admire him. Why I want him even on his Sad Days. This embarrassed him and did not have much of an effect but I couldn’t turn it off. He fell asleep. (Lemme tell you, sleepless nights never help the Sad Days. Sometimes they don’t cause them, but they NEVER help.) As he was sleeping I laid down next to him and started telling him all the things that he wouldn’t let me tell him while he was awake. I would say about 3 things and he would go “wha?” and I’d pet him and he’d fall back asleep and I’d wait and then I’d start talking really softly into his shoulder again and he’d go “wha?” and it would start all over. Finally at one point he goes “What? You said somethin.”  I kept my voice really soft but I moved so that he could hear me and said “Just telling you I love you.”

You know what that fucker said? “Oh, good. I was getting worried you were saying some black voodoo at me.” Then he turned back into his pillow and started snoring again.