My Fellow Inebriates,

Today Scary and I resigned ourselves to the worst. Our good friend Glen, family member since 2004, is not here. He’s not in the house. He’s not at school. He’s not at a neighbor’s. He’s not at Nana & Papa’s. He’s just gone.

What made him leave, we’ll never know. Perhaps if we’d noticed, we could have stopped him. But, heavily insulated as he is, he padded out of LBHQ unheard and unseen, and disappeared forever.

Scary says he’s probably been shot with a crossbow. He says that’s what happens to polar bears who enter Walmart-shadowed suburban areas. No one would have called the SPCA, but somebody with a big-ass truck and a hundred tats would have jumped on the chance to take down an amazing animal like Glen.

Glen.

Good-bye, then

Good-bye, Glen

Good-bye bear bounding off to his den

Good-bye, sir

And his winter fur

Good-bye paws

Good-bye claws

Good-bye cuddles

Good-bye snuggles

Good-bye tumbles

Good-bye bumbles

Good-bye pounces

Good-bye bounces

Good-bye furry mug

Good-bye old lug

Good-bye to the bear we used to hug

♥ ♥ ♥

Said Scary:

“Of my friend I can only say this: Of all the souls I have encountered in my travels, his was the most…ursine.”

 ♦  ♦  ♦

Said Blackie:

“I can’t ever drink vodka again. Vodka was Glen’s favorite. It’s just too painful.”

 ◊ ◊ ◊

Said Carnivorous Duck:

“You had it right the first time. I ate him.”