My Beautiful Bear

The venue was pleasantly adequate. It was very hard to impress me with flair and decoration at restaurants, presumably because my money was paying for such scenery. The environment was not what was worrying me, though. I glanced at Bear, who had sheared off a portion of the tablecloth to get at gnawing the table. Its fur looked different today, but that didn’t deter me from wondering if it was happy. Gnawing a table was such a regular activity for it, so I couldn’t be sure it was having the jovial experience I wanted it to. It had been so long since I had been responsible for a moment Bear enjoyed.

“Table again!” I jested to Bear, lightly elbowing it with a silly smile. Bear didn’t look up. The off-putting silence drew my attention to the unusual passion with which Bear was going at the table today. Maybe it was the ornate wood the table was constructed with that was spurring it on.

“You like this table?” I asked, eager to hear some words that would tell me I had its attention.

“GRRRRRRRRRUNOOOUGGGH,” Bear said, its breath slapping me hard in the face as I was so accustomed to. It managed to whisk the napkin from my lap to the floor.

“Up! Hold on here…” I said, venturing under the table to retrieve it. Bear said nothing. As I swiped the napkin, I couldn’t help but steal a glance at Bear’s back paws resting comfortably on the colorful carpet. I was always smitten for those back paws, as odd as it was. I noticed its front paws under the table as well, but before I could admire them, I noticed a phone in those front paws.

Ire filled me. Here I was, trying to show my bear a good time, and it was texting someone else! I retook my seat aggressively.

“Who’re you texting, Bear?” I asked with a contrived calmness. Bear looked at me with its black eyes, a hunk of table lodged in its mouth.

“GRRRRRRRRRUNOOOUGGGH,” Bear said.

“Pablo, huh? What are you texting him for?” I prodded.

“GRRRRRRRRRUNOOOUGGGH,” Bear said.

“You know, Bear…I’m right here. We can talk.”

“GRRRRRRRRRUNOOOUGGGH.”

I couldn’t bring myself to buttonhole it any longer. I sat to myself as Bear kept texting, wishing I knew where I had gone wrong, and wishing Pablo was a table.