He bit me! The terrible monster bit me. Maybe it was my fault, I don’t know. It all started over this feather. I found the feather at my mom’s house; she has guineas. I brought it home and put it in a book, like a bookmark. Bear couldn’t stay away from the book. He stood there sniffing and sniffing and sniffing. Finally, I pulled the feather out and showed it to him. I put it on the desk and he couldn’t keep his eyes off of it. When Robert came home from work, Bear didn’t even greet him, like he thought the feather would fly away if he left it for a moment. We put it on top of the refrigerator. Yesterday I wanted to get a picture of him looking at the feather (to post here), so I took the feather down and showed it to him again. The smell of it must have reminded him of that boyhood day when we went to visit grandma and grandpa (my mom and dad). Oh the chickens, chickens everywhere, so many to choose. Bear ran up to Robert with boyhood pride over his catch. Before I could say “No!” he snatched the feather from my hand. I grabbed his mouth to get it from him, not realizing his crazed obsession. That’s when he bit me, and this was no snap. He bit and held. I was too scared to do anything, so I had to just wait it out. It hurt my hand of course, but more than that, it hurt my feelings. I didn’t think he would ever bite me that way, holding on for a minute before letting go. I cried, because my hand and my heart were hurt. Oh well, he is a dog, a duck dog at that though not trained to be…bred to be, so I’ll have to forgive him because normally he's never aggressive.
