Holy Hell. He wasn't a counterfeit bear after all. Not that I would have loved him any less had he been; but I didn't know that.

Watson the dog mistook my ratty old bear for one of his ratty old chew toys. And thus my bear of 24 years was gone, save for a few sea-green scraps and his left ear. There was stuffing everywhere. It was horrible.

But there's nothing to be done. Watson the dog saw the bear as competition and acted like any dog in the wild would: he ate that fuzzy helpless thing.

The bear's coloring had puzzled me for years. Bedtime Bear is blue and mine was an odd green color. I thought perhaps his color had faded over time, but I had a nagging memory of a green lock of hair that I had pulled out, one by one, until it was gone.

Not that it matters now. The only color he is now is the color eaten. I suppose I can dust off my Squishable, Heath Leopard.

And the beat goes on.