Sample Essay

Mrs. Scott

8^th Grade English

9-30-08

Bear

I’ve known a few dogs in my life, but none of them hold a place as deep in my heart as Bear. Bear joined our family as a puppy shortly after I turned four years old, and left it fourteen years later, which makes up most of the childhood years I can remember. So in a way, I feel as if we grew up together, and almost all of my childhood memories include her. Most dogs are pets; Bear was not. She was my friend, my companion, my partner. We experienced many, many things together, but three episodes stand out in my mind—her falling into the creek, her riding the three-wheelers with us, and her traveling the town.

Many of our “Bear” stories are funny. One of the funniest was the time when she fell into the creek. Our farm was set back a quarter-mile off the road, and the long driveway crossed a small creek. The creek itself was only two or three feet across at its widest spot, and maybe half that deep. One time, after a horrible rainstorm, the creek filled with water drainage from the area farm fields and crossed the driveway. The constant eroding effect of the water eventually washed the driveway completely away, and we were left with a huge gaping hole and no way to get across. After the rains subsided, the water receded nearly as quickly as it had risen, but the huge gap in the driveway remained. My father and I drove his truck the long way out of our property, through the field, and parked on the other side of the lane. Bear must’ve been napping while we did this, because suddenly she saw us on the other side of the lane, and came tearing down the driveway to meet us. It did not matter where we were or what we were doing, Bear was with us, so we weren’t surprised to see her running at full speed. What was surprising is what happened next. Apparently, Bear’s sights were set solely on my dad and me as she sprinted down the lane. Suddenly, she saw the gaping hole where the creek had been, but it was too late. We saw her little black, fuzzy tail fly into the air and then spin in a circle like a pinwheel in a windstorm as she made an effort to stop…skidding, sliding, prancing…but she couldn’t. She suddenly dropped out of our sight, and a few minutes later we saw her trot out of the creek bed farther down, where the banks were not as steep. Nonchalantly, she waltzed to us as if nothing had happened, dripping with water, and we laughed uncontrollable at her. The memory of her trying to stop with her little tail spinning around brings a smile to my face every time.

Many years after the creek incident, I reached a point in my life in which my favorite pastime was riding three-wheeled all-terrain vehicles around our farm. My friend and I spent countless hours and multiple tanks of gas racing around the cornfields, through the timber, and across the pastures. Of course, Bear was there. She was always there. However, some days we’d ride for miles and she’d simply get tired of running alongside us. The mournful look on her face as we rode off and left her behind was too much to take, so one day my friend suggested that she ride with us. I lifted Bear onto the seat, sat behind her with my arms wrapping around her as I held the handlebars of the ATV, just as one would do with a small child. Bear didn’t blink an eye as we took off riding, and our problem was solved. From that day on, she ran alongside until she tired, then hopped on with me and enjoyed the rest of our adventures. She was an ideal passenger, and even learned to lean into the turns, allowing us to corner even faster without tipping over. I cannot see an ATV of any type, to this day, without remembering those times riding with my friend Bear.

Bear loved the farm life, but unfortunately, when I was fourteen, we moved to town. This meant significant changes for everyone in the family, but Bear suffered the most. Letting her live on another farm was out of the question—she was my dog, and she was where I was. Our new town house did not have a fenced-in yard, so for awhile we tried tying Bear up outside. Although she never barked or whined, Bear was beyond miserable—you could tell just by the look on her face. She did not enjoy being indoors; she was a farm dog at heart. So, to console her, my parents began to allow her to run loose in the yard. This seemed to work out perfectly—Bear seemed to understand exactly where our property ended, and we never saw her stray from it. Eventually, we allowed her to be free even when we were gone. Every single day when we came home, Bear was there, waiting happily at the back door. One day, my mom happened to bump into our mailman, who mentioned seeing Bear ALL over town. She had apparently been visiting the north side of town, and the west, and probably the south and east, too. Our Bear had been making the rounds as we were at work and school, and making sure to return home before we did. Shortly after, my dad built a fence, and that problem was solved, although I think being confined in that yard all day took some of the zest out of Bear’s life and may have contributed to her decline.

There will never be another dog like Bear. It isn’t just the stories of the creek, riding the ATV’s, and the mailman’s report that stick out in my mind, but it’s the memory of that loyal dog herself. To sum it up in a word: she was always there. There as my friend, as my partner, as my companion. I have few memories that do not include that dog. She will live on forever in my heart.