others gathered around.
Now that Robin was up close to it, the bear didn’t seem so scary. It was so little. No bigger than a small dog, but it had black, shiny fur, a tan snout, and a crest on its throat.
“He’s adorable,” she whispered.
“Believe me,” her father said. “This guy’s no teddy bear.” He lifted the bear’s paw and showed her its claws.
Griff pressed the tip of a finger against the end of one. “Sharp! No wonder they can climb trees. I could too, if I had spikes like that on the ends of my hands.”
“How come he’s holding his arm like that?” Squirm asked.
Robin stared, too. There was something odd about one of the bear’s front legs.
Her father blew air out his mouth as he stood up. “Let’s get it back to the barn where I can examine it properly. Without worrying about ‘mom.’”
He handed his medical bag to Robin, and, still cradling the bear, began walking back to the barn. Squirm and Griff picked up the ladder and Robin lugged the medical bag. It was heavy, but Robin always liked carrying it. It was like carrying hope.
She scanned the woods as she went. Now that they had the baby, wasn’t the mother even more likely to attack? She yelled out to the others. “What if the mother bear sees us? What if she comes after us?”
“And what if the sky falls in?” Griff called back.
Robin’s worry pushed more questions out her mouth. “What should we do? Run?”
Griff waited for her to catch up. “A bear can run way faster than you.”
Robin felt a rising sense of panic.
Griff put her free hand on Robin’s shoulder. “Settle down, girl. Remember, if she comes, she’s coming for her baby. We’ll just give her what she wants.”
Robin nodded, relieved.
When they got to the barn, the puppies yipped at the gate of their enclosure, and Relentless barked ferociously at the bear cub.
“She knows a wild thing when she smells it,” Griff said.
They took the bear into one of the stalls, and their father opened his medical bag. He brought out a stethoscope and placed the end that looked like a big silver medallion on the bear’s chest. The bear pawed at the tube.
Robin waited for a few moments then said, “Can I listen?”
“Sure.” Her father arranged the stethoscope in her ears.
Robin held her breath, thinking she’d have to be very quiet, but the thubbing sound coming through the stethoscope was strong and rhythmic.
“Wow!” she whispered. How magical was that!
Squirm nudged her arm. “Can I listen?”
Robin sighed and gave Squirm the stethoscope. Sometimes having to share things with her brother was a drag.
“Cool,” Squirm said, then moved the round end of the stethoscope further down the bear’s body. “I hear squishing.”
“He’s digesting,” their father said. “Probably that kid he ate for breakfast.”
Squirm’s eyes twinkled at his father’s joke. “What do bears eat anyways?”
“They’re omnivores,” his father said. “So, pretty much anything — fish, berries, meat —”
“Garbage, if people don’t put it away properly,” Griff said.
Their father probed the bear’s front leg, from his shoulder to his paw. The cub made a yipping sound.
“He’s hurt!” Robin said, making a face.
He grimaced. “You got that right. It’s broken.”
“Can you fix it?” Robin asked.
“I can put a cast on it, but if I did that, I’d have to sedate him. We’d also have to keep him for a few weeks.”
“We could keep him here!” Squirm said.
Robin gripped her father’s arm. “We’ll take care of him.” She pressed his arm. “Please?”
Her father shook his head. “We have enough to handle with the puppies. You kids are probably falling asleep at your desks as it is!”
Robin fired back, “I haven’t fallen asleep at school once.” She didn’t mention that she almost had. Several times.
“Me neither,” Squirm said.
Griff looked at her son. “It’s not much extra time….”
“Don’t you get on the
Now that Robin was up close to it, the bear didn’t seem so scary. It was so little. No bigger than a small dog, but it had black, shiny fur, a tan snout, and a crest on its throat.
“He’s adorable,” she whispered.
“Believe me,” her father said. “This guy’s no teddy bear.” He lifted the bear’s paw and showed her its claws.
Griff pressed the tip of a finger against the end of one. “Sharp! No wonder they can climb trees. I could too, if I had spikes like that on the ends of my hands.”
“How come he’s holding his arm like that?” Squirm asked.
Robin stared, too. There was something odd about one of the bear’s front legs.
Her father blew air out his mouth as he stood up. “Let’s get it back to the barn where I can examine it properly. Without worrying about ‘mom.’”
He handed his medical bag to Robin, and, still cradling the bear, began walking back to the barn. Squirm and Griff picked up the ladder and Robin lugged the medical bag. It was heavy, but Robin always liked carrying it. It was like carrying hope.
She scanned the woods as she went. Now that they had the baby, wasn’t the mother even more likely to attack? She yelled out to the others. “What if the mother bear sees us? What if she comes after us?”
“And what if the sky falls in?” Griff called back.
Robin’s worry pushed more questions out her mouth. “What should we do? Run?”
Griff waited for her to catch up. “A bear can run way faster than you.”
Robin felt a rising sense of panic.
Griff put her free hand on Robin’s shoulder. “Settle down, girl. Remember, if she comes, she’s coming for her baby. We’ll just give her what she wants.”
Robin nodded, relieved.
When they got to the barn, the puppies yipped at the gate of their enclosure, and Relentless barked ferociously at the bear cub.
“She knows a wild thing when she smells it,” Griff said.
They took the bear into one of the stalls, and their father opened his medical bag. He brought out a stethoscope and placed the end that looked like a big silver medallion on the bear’s chest. The bear pawed at the tube.
Robin waited for a few moments then said, “Can I listen?”
“Sure.” Her father arranged the stethoscope in her ears.
Robin held her breath, thinking she’d have to be very quiet, but the thubbing sound coming through the stethoscope was strong and rhythmic.
“Wow!” she whispered. How magical was that!
Squirm nudged her arm. “Can I listen?”
Robin sighed and gave Squirm the stethoscope. Sometimes having to share things with her brother was a drag.
“Cool,” Squirm said, then moved the round end of the stethoscope further down the bear’s body. “I hear squishing.”
“He’s digesting,” their father said. “Probably that kid he ate for breakfast.”
Squirm’s eyes twinkled at his father’s joke. “What do bears eat anyways?”
“They’re omnivores,” his father said. “So, pretty much anything — fish, berries, meat —”
“Garbage, if people don’t put it away properly,” Griff said.
Their father probed the bear’s front leg, from his shoulder to his paw. The cub made a yipping sound.
“He’s hurt!” Robin said, making a face.
He grimaced. “You got that right. It’s broken.”
“Can you fix it?” Robin asked.
“I can put a cast on it, but if I did that, I’d have to sedate him. We’d also have to keep him for a few weeks.”
“We could keep him here!” Squirm said.
Robin gripped her father’s arm. “We’ll take care of him.” She pressed his arm. “Please?”
Her father shook his head. “We have enough to handle with the puppies. You kids are probably falling asleep at your desks as it is!”
Robin fired back, “I haven’t fallen asleep at school once.” She didn’t mention that she almost had. Several times.
“Me neither,” Squirm said.
Griff looked at her son. “It’s not much extra time….”
“Don’t you get on the
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