My friendship with Buffy grew painfully slowly. But one evening, I discovered a wild male black bear attacking Buffy's pen. The wild bear had nearly broken down the door. I shouted and threw rocks until the bear lumbered off, then I crawled in the pen.

Buffy's tiny front feet (he was only about 5 months old at the time) pumped out from under his fuzzy rump as he ran frantically in circles, bawling with fear. Finally he stopped and stared at me. Shaking, he clambered onto my lap and hugged me. I was crying. We cuddled for a long time that night.

Finally we slept the night together, bonding and becoming family. . .

Overnight I became not only his provider but his guardian.