Little Bear
March 3, 1990 – November 9, 2007
Age: 17½ years = 123 Cat Years

Little Bear was born to B.P. (Black Puss) at Rod Cann’s house in Greenfield, near Wolfville, NS. Also living at Rod’s house at the time was Heather Holm, who had just moved back to Nova Scotia from Montreal. She handled Little Bear too soon after he was born. He imprinted on her and thereafter considered her to be his mother, and would even leave his three littermates nursing with B.P. to climb all the way up to Heather’s shoulder.

Little Bear and his brother, Teddy Bear, had the good fortune to spend their formative cat-years with their mother, B.P. She was an expert hunter and taught them well – until her next litter came along.

At the age of 6 months, Little Bear and Teddy Bear moved to a cabin in Baxters Harbour where they persuaded Heather to construct a cat door so they could come and go as they pleased. They hunted a Who’s Who of the local fauna, often bringing them into the cabin for inspection and consumption: moles, shrews, mice, bats, flying squirrels, baby rabbits and a rare luna moth. Sometimes the bats were relatively uninjured and flew circles around the cabin before finding escape through the hastily opened skylight.

It was an idyllic life for a young cat. L.B. and T.B. would follow Heather through the woods on her way to visit the neighbours, responding to calls of “Here kitties” all along the way. They were exposed to live Celtic and classical music. Their highly varied diet was regularly punctuated by tapeworm medicine, but otherwise their health was excellent. They had acres of woods to explore. Only occasional trips to the vet marred a perfect existence.

Slim and very elegant, with a classic profile, and totally black except for a few hairs under his chin, Little Bear was an introverted cat. His brother was much more outgoing: a cat’s cat (once, before his spaying, he was caught in flagrante delicto) and a people’s cat – even a skunk’s cat on one occasion. (Ever try to wash a cat in tomato juice?)

Little Bear, by contrast, was very shy of people (especially small ones) and other animals, perhaps because he had very little voice to make his feelings known. He never had a torn ear or a scar from fighting. He kept his distance and let his brother do the dirty work. In his own way, however, at home, he was dominant. If his brother found a new favourite sleeping spot, Little Bear was sure to take it over. And in the contest to sleep the closest to Heather’s head, it was always Little Bear’s fur in Heather’s face.

Then one day, after three halcyon years, life changed. The cabin burned to the ground. Not knowing whether the cats had been inside when the fire started, as she had been away, Heather searched the ashes anxiously for what the fire chief had told her a barbecued cat would look like. Finding none, she set cat food in her camper/studio and left a ladder leading to an open window, hoping the cats would check it out. It took over a week before it was evident that someone had touched the food. A joyful reunion ensued when L.B. and T.B. found Heather waiting hopefully for them, fast asleep in the studio.

The next few months were chaotic, as Heather found accommodation with a series of people who were allergic to cats. Teddy Bear made his statement about being kept in a barn with his incredible month-long pilgrimage from Canning up the North Mountain to Scots Bay. It bought him salvation in the form of a lifelong primary relationship with Heather’s friend Dennis and even a trip in an airplane. But that is Teddy’s story.

Little Bear had one great shortcoming as a pet: he never learned to retract his claws when in close proximity to a human. And so it was his lot to live in the woods outside the Reagans’ house for four years, with the aforementioned camper/studio for a refuge. It now had a flap-covered hole in the door for entry, a bag of food, and a box lined with insulation material for warmth. For weeks on end he would not touch the food, and Heather wondered if he were still around, and then he would return, and she would occasionally see him and hold him and pet him and talk to him, and he would purr. But how often he spent the night sleeping on the ground, or in a tree, and where he got most of his meals, she never knew. Only when the Reagans were between dogs did he hang around the house, and then she understood that it was fear of the dog, even an old, gentle dog, that had been keeping him away.

On one occasion, Dennis invited Little Bear to come over and visit Teddy Bear for a family reunion at his house in Mount Denson. So Heather managed to catch L.B. and took him over. The humans watched with great interest as first the cats approached each other and sniffed, seeming to say, “Oh, it’s you. There you are.” Then the cats walked around together a bit, and Little Bear explored Teddy’s house. But soon things got a bit tense as Little Bear started to play dominant on Teddy’s turf. So that was their only reunion. Teddy Bear later moved to Vancouver and died there in November 2006, apparently from a cancerous growth on his neck where the flea collar had long been.

Eventually, Heather moved again, and now it was time for Little Bear to have a better home. So she recruited her father, Flemming, who was experienced at inheriting his daughters’ cats, to take him on. Once more, she spent some nights in the studio before making contact with Little Bear. A tranquilizer hidden in some fancy food persuaded him to make the car trip to Dartmouth. And to everyone’s surprise, when the drug wore off, Little Bear was a happy house cat (though with outdoor privileges) in the city.

Little Bear and Flemming were soon the best of friends. Living alone, Flemming was glad for the company, and Little Bear happily contributed to the shredding of the furniture begun by his predecessor. Even a move to an apartment and becoming truly an indoor cat didn’t faze him much.

Meanwhile, Heather met Steve and gave birth to Malcolm. The time came to consolidate the family. And so Flemming moved in with them in Kentville and Little Bear came along too, but minus his front claws – a stipulation for living with a baby and unclawed furniture. Once more, Little Bear could go outside, but as he was getting older and was now without claws, he didn’t stay out as long as he used to. And there were other cats and dogs around. Flemming’s bed was a good place to be.

Three years later, they all moved to the South Shore, and once again there were woods and his own territory to explore. But by now he was getting old. One local cat made friends with him; after being shooed away a few times by humans on Little Bear’s behalf, and some one-sided meowing face-offs, the two of them could occasionally be observed in companionable silence. It even seemed as if the stranger cat would come to call, and Flemming would wonder what it meant.

Malcolm grew up with Little Bear in the house, and gradually was able to approach him and pet him more and more. Now seven people-years old, he still doesn’t realize that cats are not usually as shy as Little Bear. Flemming and Little Bear understood each other, both being old men by now, and inclined to spend long periods of time lying down. The three of them, Malcolm, Flemming and Little Bear, spent idyllic hours on Flemming’s bed, reading comic classics such as Pogo and Calvin and Hobbs, or more serious classics such as The Wind in the Willows, Alice in Wonderland and Robin Hood, or talking about history and the dates of things, and drawing timelines or trains.

In his last weeks, Little Bear was eating less and less, some days not eating at all, and getting thinner and more tired. Twice he almost went to the vet, but then started eating again. Winter was approaching. He spent one last night outside, and Flemming found his body in the morning.

Malcolm acted as pallbearer (the first time L.B. ever allowed Malcolm or any child to carry him more than a few feet) and we buried Little Bear in the flower garden.
Kitty so furry
Written by Heather for L.B. and T.B. at Baxters Harbour
To be sung to the fiddle tune “Tenpenny Bit”

Kitty so furry, oh kitty so purry
Now please do not worry, I’m soon coming back to you
Kitty so furry, oh kitty so purry
Now please do not fret for I won’t be too long.

I never will know ‘cause you never can show me
How much you’ve been missing me when I am gone,
But when I come home all your purring and furryness
Warm up my lap and my heart and my song.