A Necessary Bear

My job is a lonely one. I sit by myself, often with nothing but my own thoughts for company. My fur is sticky and matted, especially on my shoulders, and often itches. I hold The Tool, linking me always to its threat.

I have to admit that The Man tries to clean my fur and doesn’t do a bad job, but the spot on my shoulder never comes all the way clean and lies flat, even when he combs me with a damp cloth. It itches, but that’s all right. I consider it more than just a drawback to my job—it’s a badge of honor.

Unlike the crowd on the bed, who are often talked to and played with, who get attention every night when the bed is unmade and again when it’s made, I’m largely ignored. I might worry that my cub sees me only as a bad thing, but he reassures me every morning. The Man comes in to awaken him, and he crawls from his bed, grumbling like he’s slept the entire winter, not just one night. After a minute, the cub walks over to his dresser, pulls open a drawer, and draws out a pair of socks and a t-shirt, if he’d not slept in one. Every day, at some point about then, he stops and looks up at me. He smiles and pats my head or tickles my foot or takes my paw in his for a moment, then quietly says, ‘You gonna help me be good again today, Spanky?’ In my quiet way, I assure him that I’ll do my best. If he remembers, he’ll run his brush through his blond fur, smile at me again, then turn away.

On the good days, he ignores me the rest of the day, but I watch over him. Often he’s on the floor, rolling around with the other cubs, or playing one of the esoteric games human cubs love so much. On a good day, I’ll be by myself until the end of it. Then The Man comes in and tells him the magic code words, "Nearly bedtime." The cub might complain a bit, but it’s usually playful. He’ll throw his skins into the basket, then come back over to me and pull clean briefs from the drawer, and maybe a t-shirt if it’s chilly. Then he’ll smile up at me and say, "Well, I was a good boy today, Spanky. Thanks." It’s just words to him, but I quiver with fulfillment, knowing that I helped him get through another day.

That’s how a good day goes, but they’re not all good days. This afternoon, I’d heard The Man come home early, and he had my cub with him. My cub had run in to kick off his shoes but hadn’t even thought to say hello to me. Instead he ran out as quickly as he’d come in. A little while later, I could smell the warm, wonderful smells of vanilla and chocolate filling the house and knew they were making treats. I closed my eyes and leaned back to enjoy the scents (we bears don’t have the eyes of humans, but we have wonderful noses).

I may have drifted off, because the next thing I knew, my reverie was broken when the door pushed open. The Man was carrying the cub, and it was obvious they were both unhappy.

The Man crossed to the bed and sat down, spreading his legs, and placing my cub between them. The Man gently held the cub’s upper arms and looked into his eyes for a moment before speaking.

"Van," which is my cub’s calling word, "I specifically told you that you couldn’t have any more cookies until your brothers got home. Didn’t I?"

I could tell by the way my cub moved his head that he was already filled with fear and regret, but that didn’t keep his head from nodding as he answered, "Yes, Daddy."

"You know you have to mind me, don’t you?"

"Yes, sir, Daddy. I’m really sorry."

"I know you are, kiddo," The Man replied, squeezing the boy a little more tightly and giving him a quick hug, "but you know what happens when you don’t mind."

"I gotta get a spanking," the cub replied, and I could tell he was already starting to cry by the way his voice wavered.

Watching over the boy and helping him to behave is a huge part of my job, but it’s not my only job. Watching as The Man reached to the cub’s hips to unfasten the buttons of his overalls, before reaching up to undo the straps, letting them fall to his ankles, I was torn. This was my time. This was the time when I wasn’t ignored, but was loved and needed. Yet even though this was one of the times that give meaning to my life, they are so hard on my cub that I sometimes wish they could pass. Still, like The Man, I know they are unpleasant, but the cub needs to learn from them so he can grow.

The cub knew what was expected of him. I watched with pride as, without having to be told, he stepped out of his Oshkoshes, then lifted his t-shirt, exposing his little white Haynes so the Man could pull them off. Like most humans, my cub has almost no fur, but I’ve come to appreciate his lean, firm, yet slightly soft frame. He’s not a proper bear, but he’s cute in his own way. I saw him look up at the man and say something too softly for me to hear. The man leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his forehead before nodding.

The cub turned towards me and began walking. I silently lent him strength to be brave and face what we all now had to know was coming. Still holding his t-shirt up, leaving him bare (if you’ll pardon the expression) from chest to socks, he slowly approached me. His hand trembled as he reached over to lift The Tool from where I held it in my lap, then pulled me into his embrace.

As we hesitantly took the few steps back to The Man, I did my best to calm the boy, holding him as tightly as I could, and trying to assure him that The Man and I both loved him and only wanted what was best for him.

He was holding me so I faced back, but I could still tell when we reached The Man, and I could feel it as his body twisted to hand The Tool to him. As soon as that was done, he shifted to hold me in both hands, and I clung to his left breast, knowing that he depended upon me now. We turned and, still looking over his shoulder, I saw The Man reach toward us, gently taking the boy and lifting him to lie him across The Man’s lap. He shifted us slightly so the cub and I were both as comfortable as could be expected, though the cub was trembling with dread at what he knew was coming. The cub was darned near squeezing the stuffing out of me, but I loved it. It was what gave my life meaning, and I treasured it as a sign of his trust in me, his need for me.

I had my face buried in the cub’s shoulder, giving him all the warmth and reassurance I could, so I didn’t see the first smack as The Tool rose and fell in the man’s hands. The cub tried to be brave, but he whimpered as The Tool burned across his bottom. I knew from watching the cub’s elder brother that The Tool would leave a red line across his delicate little bottom, and I knew from the cub’s reactions that it stung badly. We both knew that the sting would only get worse.

As the paddle continued to rise and fall in a slow, regular rhythm, the cub’s whimpers and sobs became real cries, and he was soon bawling, loud and hard. We clung to each other and I assured him, even through his distress, that he was loved and that he would get through this. And he did. I was so wrapped up in the cub that I didn’t even realize at first that the spanking was over. I don’t think the cub did either since his body continued to jerk and squirm for a moment, but he finally did realize it, and almost immediately began to calm.

The Man lifted us so we were sitting in his lap and wrapped us in his arms. The three of us sat quietly for a moment, the cub still crying, and the man softly telling my cub the same things that I’d been saying—that we loved him, and that he really was a good boy, and that we hoped he learned from this.

After a moment, The Man lifted us, placing the cub on his back paws, and escorted us to The Corner. We stood there, the cub still clinging tightly to me. This time, I could see over the cub’s shoulder, and saw as the man checked his watch, then walked back to sit in the same place and watch as the cub’s crying slowly died away.

After a minute, a buzzer went off in another room and The Man left, but was only gone for a few seconds. I was very proud that my cub stayed absolutely still, just as he was supposed to.

My cub finally seemed to be settling down and dried his eyes on my shoulder before rubbing his drippy nose across my chest. The itch was already starting to grow, but I faced it bravely, knowing it was part of my job.

After what seemed long enough for a full hibernation, The Man let us out of the corner. He held us again, talking to my cub about why it was important to obey, and assuring him that he really was a good boy. The three of us clung together for another minute before the man stood us up, and the cub carried me and The Tool back to the dresser, setting me carefully back in my place, then handing me The Tool to hold until he needed it again.



When dark came again, The Man came in with the cub. I watched while the cub undressed and threw his skins into the hamper, then crossed over to me. He opened the drawer to pull out a pair of briefs, then smiled up at me. "I’m sorry I was naughty today, Spanky. Thanks for helping."

‘No problem, kiddo’, I assured him gruffly. ‘It’s my job.’

Still smiling, the cub looked closely at me, then put The Tool aside and lifted me up, before turning towards The Man.

"Daddy, I think Spanky Bear needs a bath, too."

I smiled to myself. My fur was matted and sticky and had been itching all evening, especially on my shoulder, but I knew The Man would take care of me as well as he could, just like he did for my cub. My job is often a lonely one, but I know it’s important.



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