An old bear named Growler

“Growler”. So called because when knew, he did! Although his growl was a bit more like a cow than I imagined a bear to sound.

He was a kind, thoughtful gift from my Godmother for the birthday when I stood at the doorway of leaving childhood and commented that I had never had a real Teddy Bear. Changes of all kinds were in the very air blowing in that door and I must have sensed the need of some anchor when I asked for one.

Growler was never a plaything for me but sat properly through my teen years. Except…except when it seemed he was used as a lure for quieting and he became amusement in crib and playpen for toddler grandchildren visiting my parents’ home. While photographs just show him lying around, somehow his fur wore off and claws went missing…

Long years after his growler wore out and his head began to lean sideways and there were no little ones to play with him, he came to live in my home. He spent many a year in a memory box occasionally coming out for Christmas visits and fresh bows. Then more recently he spent his days in a small rocking chair in sunbeams and moonlight.

This week, with cleaned up face and paws, I put him in a happy box and carried him to a new home where he was warmly welcomed by an old friend of his.


And I came home and suddenly felt bereft. I am not much of a saver so it was a surprise to feel tears. Maybe they came because of all he represented rather than that he was a possession; I am amazed how many memories can be held tight in a dear old bear.

If old bears could speak to each other, there would be a lot of happy talk going on in his new home where two other old bears speak love too.