Not Really

I might be the same size as a Bear
Have the same shape as a Bear
Have the same sort of temper as a Bear

But actually, I'm really a well padded middle aged Granny who enjoys the company of her 'permanent resident' boys. Brakkie and Father Jack are sharing the sofa with me.

I'm worried about Father Jack, actually. The Vet was worried about his liver functions a while back (Jack is about 14 or 15 years old) and we always called him Fat Jack, because he WAS. A fortnight ago when Lisa came to do my hair she remarked that Jack isn't fat any more. I noticed hollows in his flanks when he was at the food bowl just last week. He hasn't got fleas or worms, he is eating and drinking well although he is off his cod liver oil. I'm worried about him. A world where Fat Jack is no longer fat is a scary sort of place. I know he can't live forever but I'm not ready to say goodbye to him yet. I want him to enjoy a wonderfully lazy summer, dozing peacefully in the sun. Oh, Jack! Hang in there, mate.