Recently I wrote a couple of bear short stories. So, when a friend from down the street brought me the following Christmas gift, I thought it was highly appropriate.

She brought me a deep cranberry red ten inch tall soft, fuzzy, sweet bear. A little note hangs from its neck. It reads:

In this life I'm a woman. In my next life, I'd like to come back as a bear. When you're a bear, you get to hibernate. You do nothing but sleep for six months. I could deal with that. Before you hibernate, you're supposed to eat yourself stupid. I could deal with that, too.

When you're a girl bear, you birth your chilren (whoare the size of walnuts) while you're sleeping and wake to partially grown, cute, cuddly cubs. I could definitely deal with that.

If you're a mama bear, everyone knows you mean business. You swat anyone who bothers your cubs. If your cubs get out of line, you swat them too. I could deal with that.

If you're a bear, your mate expects you to wake up growling. He expects that you will have hairy legs and excess body fat.

Yup ... gonna be a bear.

The bear also came with a bag of chocolates. Now that's a present.