together. But that never happened. Now he was alone and afraid on a boat thousands of miles away from everything he had ever known. He didn’t know how people could be so cruel, so inconsiderate. The rolling of the waves made Bear nauseous, homesick while remembering the ups and downs of his past relationships. Bear looked through a crack in his crate, looking beyond his small cell into the wide world outside. There was a man walking around the sides of the big ship, a large beard sprouted from his mouth, cascading down to his pants. He walked around the ship once a day, every day, for weeks. It seemed so impossible to Bear how someone could have such a boring job, commit themselves to such a boring occupation. Bear was reminded of the Mahogany man though, one who had an eerie representation of the man before him now. The boat was not small. It was a large freight ship, thousands and thousands of crates and boxes, storage containers and wooden cases. It had a large metallic hull and was painted a bright red; the vibrant color radiating into the ocean below, turning it to the color of blood. Every day as Bear looked out of the small hole he had been gifted by the grace of god, he saw only the demotivating and depressing sea of death. After weeks of this uncanny voyage, Bear finally saw land outside. There were birds circling above as the water turned to a polluted green that made Bear reminiscent of the blue he was used to. There was a large industrial port, columns of brick and smockstack lining the horizon as far as the eye could see—everywhere. People seemed rushed, running in every direction, moving every which way as if attempting to find something they had lost long ago, something that they missed very dearly; with purpose. Bear enjoyed the new atmosphere very little. It was sad compared to the cliff house in which he had spent years of his life. But, it was better than being forgotten in a closet. Maybe he would find another kid that could become his owner, maybe he could start his third life. Bear started to wonder how many lives he had, he had already gone through two, Baron and Embala. Oh Baron; it had been so long since Bear thought of Baron. Bear remembered on that dock, the last time he was with Baron, when his father leaned close and said those powerful farewell words. Bear remembered every minute of that final day, how different his life would have been if Baron hadn’t been so careless, if the boat didn’t tip. Bear's thoughts were interrupted as the crate he was in was violently lifted off of the ground and into the sky. Bear had never known what he was afraid of, it’s hard as a Bear when you can move or talk; see what you enjoy and don’t enjoy doing. At this moment, Bear knew he was scared of heights. If he had had human hands, they would be pale with their nails digging into the sides of the crate. Luckily, this flight did not last long; the crate was soon set on the ground and the faint shadows of shapes started moving faster outside. CRACK, the side of the crate flew off as a man used a long crowbar to split the wood. The next few minutes were interesting, the items in the container got sorted into a few different piles. Bear, being older and used, was put in a pile with some random buttons and pieces of fabric. Bear hoped that this was the pile that would be reused, given new life, reutilized with someone that they could make happy. Bear sat in the back of the trash truck, devastated. This was the end of his life. This was the end of the line. He had nothing left to offer the humans and so he was being discarded. He
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