((I have never written anything so intensely personal and emotional as what you are about to read. It is the story of my life with Tama, my Guardian spirit. Every word and event is true, save for the medieval setting and a pawful of objects that replace modern technology. These pages are filled with some joy, humor, and much sadness and regret. Please be mindful of this if you are sensitive and easily depressed. The songs therein are from a CD I created (with Tama's guidance) that tells our story.

My life with Tama is the greatest joy and pain I have ever known. I am not even sure if showing this to others is the right thing to do, but I needed to document our lives so I can try to heal. Perhaps I am sharing this with you so I can help keep Tama alive...and so you can know just what she means to me.))

On a clear, sunny morning I found my best friend...my soulmate...my daughter...my Guardian. In a single moment, I discovered what love was...and stopped being alone.

I had always felt out of place in this world. I was a bear surrounded by heeyumans who lived by a code of their own. A code I could never understand. I knew I was different. When I tried to make friends and belong, I was driven away. In my search to find acceptance, I wore a mask to hide my true self and did my best to act like the creatures around me, but the eyes of the world saw right through to the bear underneath. Scared and bitter, I retreated to my den, praying that love would find me...and save me. I could not change who or what I was or the path Life had set before me; I could only stay lost within the haven of myself and wait to be set free.

Animals were the only creatures I felt at ease around. They accepted me as I was, and I found peace in their company. I would visit them in the woods near my den or spend time with the domestic creatures that the heeyumans cared for, but I never felt like I had the presence of a true Guardian in my life. A Guardian who was part of me.

One morning, while hiking through the forest, I was transfixed at the sight of a black and tan canine striding proudly alongside a heeyuman. Its grace, power, beauty, and the noble way it carried itself immediately struck a chord in me. I knew I was looking at a true Guardian. That morning, German Shepherds became the dogs of my dreams and I longed to have an animal like that by my side--a companion and friend who loved and accepted me unconditionally.

I was still living in my heeyuman parents' den at the time, and my mother had forbidden the presence of another animal in her home. She had always seen them as burdens that created unwanted messes and work, though she never seemed to mind the turmoil caused by her heeyuman family. Over and over again I would ask if I could have a companion, but she would not be swayed. It became a running joke for me to ask her, at the most inopportune moments, if I could bring a dog home.

"Cleaning this stove is getting too much for me," she would lament as I passed by.

"You know what would help?"

"What?"

"A dog," I would grin. Then she would shake a finger at me and rant for the next hour how there was 'no way in hell' she would allow a dog in her den. My plight seemed hopeless.

That autumn, as the colors faded into the bleak grays and shadows of winter and my loneliness and isolation deepened, I fell into depression. One morning, as my parents prepared to depart on a weeklong journey, I whimpered at the prospect of being alone and wished aloud that I had a companion to keep me company. My mother gave me a long look and said, "As long as it doesn't shed and it's not a longhair."

I was stunned. She had not said 'no'. It was not a definite 'yes', but it certainly was not a 'no'.

"Wait a minute! Does that mean...?" I left the thought unfinished, scared to even hope.

She just nodded with a sigh and smiled.

With a joyous roar I scooped her up in my arms and gave her an enormous bearhug. "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!" With a big smile on my muzzle, I immediately rushed to the village to ask where I could find a German Shepherd pup.

Later that morning, with the information I had collected clutched in my paws, I slowly lumbered through the den with my head hung low. I was a simple bear with very little means, and German Shepherds were more expensive than I had ever imagined. I would never be able to afford a five hundred dollar puppy. True I could find another breed, but I knew in my heart that I was meant to have a German Shepherd by my side. I stared at the list of dogs and sighed heavily.

"I can't afford any of these," I mumbled to my mother as she packed. "I don't know what to do."

As I sat dejectedly in the front chamber, my parents walked past. "We're leaving now, Belic. Take care of yourself."

My mother watched slyly as my Dad headed towards the cart, then rushed over to me and pressed something into my paw. "Get whatever makes you happy."

I opened my paw and found a small pouch containing fifty dollars in silver pieces. "Thank you, Mom," I called after her as she rushed out the door. Combined with the little money I had saved, it still was not nearly enough to afford a German Shepherd pup, but her gesture touched my heart. For the longest time, my mother was vehemently opposed to having a dog in her den, and now she was helping me. She is a strange and wonderful woman.

I fetched my meager savings and added it to what my mother had given me. One hundred dollars. I looked at the list of dogs again to see if there was anything I might have missed. My eyes spotted a short, simple notation I had made, 'German Shepherd puppies 250 dollars' followed by a name.

"It's close to what I can afford...sort of. Maybe if I explain my situation they can help me." My father had always taught me that the worst anyone could say when you asked them for something was 'no', so with a faint flicker of hope in my heart I headed to town to talk with the breeder.

A woman in the marketplace directed me to the gentleman who had puppies for sale. The man who owned the dogs told me there were three left, two black and tan and one pure black--though that one was spoken for. He was very gruff and seemingly unsympathetic when I spoke to him about always wanting a German Shepherd and not being able to afford the price he was asking.

"Isn't there anything you can do to help me?"

After a long pause, he sighed deeply. "All right, all right. I can let you have one for one-fifty."

I stifled a whimper. I was so close, but I still did not have enough money. "That's very generous of you, sir, but unfortunately it's still more than I can afford."

He groaned loudly. "Look, that's the best I can do."

"May I see them?" I asked quickly to dispel the tension, not wanting to push my luck. I knew I could not pay his price, but I wanted to at least see the puppies...and try.

The man nodded, then whispered something to his hawk messenger and sent him aloft. "There'll be someone waiting for you."

Nervous but hopeful, I waddled out into the cold, clear morning air, lifted my bulk into the wagon with a grunt, and followed the breeder's directions.

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I found myself in front of an old shop in the crafter's section of town where the sounds of clanging metal and barking dogs filled the icy air. Rounding the corner of the building, a chorus of harsh snarls stopped me in my tracks. I watched as two adult German Shepherds ran towards me and threw themselves against the side of a makeshift kennel, warning me to stay away. The pen was cobbled together with pieces of old wood and wire, and the floor was a cratered mass of frozen mud. I growled with disgust as I studied the creatures' environment, the deafening cacophony of the workshop and dogs' desperation creating a feeling of chaos and anxiety all around me.

"You here for the puppies?" asked a voice from behind.

I turned to see a haggard craftsman, soiled from his labors.

"Yes," I nodded.

"There's only one left--the black one's taken," he said, pushing past the adult dogs as he entered the cage.

"But I thought there were three." I scanned the cage but could only spot the pure black pup standing behind its parents.

"Gone. Someone took the other one right before you got here."

The man made his way to the back of the cage and bent town to pick up a small lump of black that had been huddled in the corner, hidden from view. He held the pup awkwardly from one of its front legs as he made his way out of the cage, shutting the door behind him.

"Fifty, take it or leave it," he grunted, dropping the creature into my paws.

Shivering with cold and fright, the puppy looked up at me hopefully. That was when I knew our search had ended. 'Take it or leave it?' There was no way in Hell I was going to leave her in that place. She needed me, just as I needed her, and we would start a new life...together.

Without uttering a word I paid the man and headed back to the wagon, the pup cradled in my arms. Ever so gently, I lay her on the seat and lightly rested my paw on her back to comfort her. Her shivering had stopped.

As we rode home beneath crystal sky, I glanced down at the puppy sleeping peacefully in a warm beam of sunlight beside me and felt such joy and hope. This fragile little creature had already begun to change my life.

--Coldplay ("Green Eyes")

On the way back to the den, we stopped at the general store on the outskirts of town to pick up some supplies. The people inside fawned over the little puppy standing tall, proud, and unbelievably cute atop a stack of feedbags. Just like any new papa bear, my chest swelled with pride.

"What's her name?"

"Tama," I replied happily, giving the pup a scratch under her chin. 'Tama' was the maker of the drums I used as a bear bard.

Everything feels so right, I thought as we began the short ride home. I could feel it in my gut. And I knew Tama could feel it too, because she buried her face in my lap and retched.

I looked down and blinked. "I love you too."

When we returned home, I sat and watched as she explored her new den, sniffing every object and inch of ground. After a short play session and some lunch, we both curled up together on the floor and drifted to sleep.

A week later, as Tama and I were lounging about the den, I heard a wagon pull up outside and recognized the sound my parents' voices. I swallowed nervously and quickly rushed to tidy things up. All week long, I had been dreading their return. What if my mother didn't like Tama? What if she had changed her mind and made me take her back to the breeder's? My mom had never been fond of animals and that only added to my anxiety.

"They're home, Tama. Please be good. No biting...or peeing. As a matter of fact, any kind of elimination on or around Mom and Dad is pretty much out of the question."

She just cocked her head and looked at me.

"Yes! Be cute! Great idea! That'll work!"

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Whatever words I say

I will always love you

I will always love you...

--The Cure ("Lovesong")

Tama and I never left each other's side those first few weeks. We ate together, played together, and when the day was over she slept beside my bed. The bond we forged that morning at the crafter's grew stronger every day. I loved her, and I knew she loved me, but I would soon find out just how boundless that love was.

That first month, while we were enjoying the solitude of one of our nightly walks through the forest, the booming bark of a nearby dog startled us. Golden light pouring from a house just off the dirt road revealed a large male German Shepherd keeping vigil beside the front door. Alerted to our presence, he jumped to his paws and started for us, snarling and growling. I stopped and turned towards the sound, confident that the dog was tethered. Tama sat silently beside me. As the adult dog approached, I could feel the pup's body shrink back and press against my leg. Any time now he should get to the end of that rope, I thought as the animal drew closer. He galloped further and further away from his home. Any time now. He stepped from his yard onto the road. I swore. The dog was not tied up. Just as the huge shepherd reached us, the tiny puppy beside me, who had never made a sound in all the time we had been together, erupted with a storm of angry barks that belied her size and jumped between me and the male shepherd, snapping her jaws wildly. Stunned at the outburst, the bigger dog skidded to a stop, gave her a long look, then slowly retreated. In that moment, Tama revealed herself as my Guardian. There is no greater act of love then what that little pup did for me that night. She protected me with her life. In the face of seemingly insurmountable, hopeless odds, she stood strong and brave and showed me the depths of her heart. She taught me what it is to truly love.

Just as our life together was beginning, I became ill. There were times when I felt, beyond a shadow of doubt, I was going to die. I tried to ignore what was happening and fight off the sensations, but my condition worsened...and I was scared. The horrible attacks that were a part of the illness started happening more often and I grew fearful of being incapacitated away from home, so I quit being a bear bard, my life's passion. Over time, my world grew smaller, and soon I was unable to venture from my cave. I was denbound. The few "friends" I had abandoned me when they discovered I was no longer able to go out and be a source of entertainment. I thought every day was my last, and when the pain and sadness became too much for me to bear, I gave up. I did not want to go on living. The only reason I got out of bed in the morning was because I knew Tama needed me. I could not abandon her. When I looked into her eyes, I found strength, courage, peace, love, and hope. She kept me alive. Through it all she never gave up on me, and slowly I began to heal.

--Coldplay ("Amsterdam")

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-- The Eels ("My Beloved Monster")

The years that followed were filled with a lot of joy, but they were also a learning experience for both of us.

One afternoon, when Tama was still a pup, I was sleeping on the floor of the den when she got it into her little fuzzy head that my nose was something evil that needed to be eliminated at all costs. With piranha-like zeal, she lunged and clamped onto my snout with her razor-sharp puppy teeth. I awoke with a roar, pulling my head back and flailing my arms like a mad bear. Unfortunately, her fangs were still in my nose when I pulled away and she sliced me open like an avocado. At the same time one of my paws bonked her in the muzzle, causing her to yelp, run away, and hide under a table. With blood dripping down my muzzle I sat up and looked in her direction.

"Tama, my nose is NOT a chew toy! Chew toys do not bleed! Okay, maybe some of the more expensive ones do, but..."

She just stared and blinked at me from her hiding spot.

"We're not going to do this again, are we?" I smiled.

The pup slowly emerged from beneath the table, her tail wagging tentatively. I gave her a scritch, she gave me a lick, and all was forgiven. From then on, she was always very careful around my face when we played.

It was very, very rare that something shook Tama. Only once or twice in her life did I ever see her show any real fear. The first instance occurred one afternoon when I was feeling very playful. As I waddled towards her I flashed my claws and roared ferociously. With a yelp and whimper she cowered in the corner and shook with fear.

"Oh, Tama, I'm sorry! I was just playing. It's okay...it's okay," I soothed as I took her in my arms. I had not stopped to think how frightening a giant, roaring Kodiak brown bear would look to a tiny bundle of fluff like Tama. I learned my lesson and never played with her like that again.

When my friend John slept over one night, Tama escaped her tether beside my bed and ambushed him...at 6 am. I awoke to the sounds of laughter and the sight of her wagging rump and tail sticking out of his sleeping roll.

"Tama! Who are you? What are you doin'? Get away!" was his comical response.

My bard sense of humor must have rubbed off on that dog because there were times when she had me laughing so hard I was in tears. One evening, when a few of my heeyuman friends and I were playing cards, Tama snuck in, quietly lifted my friend Dave's shirt from the back of his chair, then took it into the other room and started playing with it. Now Dave was very particular with his belongings and not very patient with animals, so when he found her with his shirt, he was irate.

"Tama! Easy there...drop it!" Dave yelled as he went to fetch his shirt.

The rest of us chuckled at Tama's antics and Dave's reaction. Brushing the shirt off, Dave re-draped it over the back of his chair and we resumed play. Not ten seconds later, Tama had the shirt in her mouth again. This time Dave's response was twice as animated. He swore fiercely as he stomped off to retrieve the shirt again. Tired of Tama's thievery, he folded the garment neatly into a square and placed it atop the windowsill in the other room, well out of Tama's reach. We began again. In the middle of an intense moment in the game, while everyone was busy, a few of us caught sight of Tama trotting proudly towards us with her head held high...and Dave's shirt dangling from her maw! She moved into the center of the room, turned to face Dave, then shook the shirt so vigorously that the chamber filled with the sound of flapping cloth. We laughed so hard our faces were beet red and we were coughing and crying at the same time.

One of the few impressive feats she could perform (and believe me, there weren't many) was jumping through my arms. No one ever taught her how, it was just something she knew how to do straight out of the womb. Creatures are blessed with many gifts. Useless gifts in this case. Here's how it worked. I would stand up on two chairs with my back towards Tama and my legs spread wide. Then, I would bend over at the waist and call to her. When she started running, I would form my arms into a hoop. Right before she passed beneath me, she would leap up into the air, her legs tucked tightly into her body, and fly through my arms. I could feel her back and tail glide along the underside of my sagging belly, chest and arms as she passed through. Of course the day I went to show this trick to one of my friends, she made it a point to run under my arms every single time and then spin around in front of me and smile, as if she were laughing. The more I tried to get her to jump, the more she made me look like a fool...which is not that hard to do in the first place. The last time I clapped and called to her, she just walked up to me casually and kissed my face. So much for the hoop trick.

Her dexterity and coordination were extraordinary at times, especially when it came to playing with her ball. Just the mention of the "B" word made her ears perk and eyes twinkle with excitement. If you threw the ball in her direction, she could snatch it out of the air with lightning speed. The toss did not have to be accurate at all. If that ball was even remotely close, she could grab it. She could do the same thing with a Frisbee as well, though she preferred the ball. But her favorite toy, above all others, was a hockey puck. When a puck was involved, she was a dog on a mission, though none of us could ever figure out what that mission was. I think her obsession came from us always playing hockey together. Tama would be the goalie and defense-dog, and I would be the forward. If I could get the puck past her and into the bucket on the other side of the road with one shot (no rebounds allowed), I would get a point. If she stripped the puck from me as I tried to move closer or blocked the shot, she would get the point. That pup whupped my rump BAD! Every time! I could keep the puck away from her for a while and even tuck it between her legs and move around her sometimes, but she was so fast I never really stood a chance.

That is not to say that Tama was always the most graceful and coordinated dog in the world. I've seen that pup trip on dust, do a splayed-leg Bambi impersonation on freshly waxed wooden floors, bang her head when walking under a table, and head-butt me in the face--and groin--countless times (though I am not sure if those were accidents). And do not even get me started on her powers of destruction! Her whip-like tail and large body used to wreak havoc on anything remotely breakable. She could be both the epitome of grace on four paws, and a walking accident.

Regretfully, there were times when she was forced to go into battle to protect her pack. If we brought a stranger into the den, Tama figured they were supposed to be there and accepted their presence. But outside it was a different story. That was her territory and she guarded it with an iron paw. On two occasions, when strange heeyumans entered our yard, Tama attacked to drive them off. Even though I know she was only protecting her family and doing what she thought was right, I wish it never happened. What is frustrating is that the intruders COULD have prevented the encounter but did nothing to help matters. All I know is that it was not Tama's fault. She was in her territory and gave them every warning in the world to stay away, barking and growling the whole time they approached her boundaries. But they walked right up to her anyway, and she reacted just like a threatened dog is supposed to. Unfortunately, some heeyumans are ignorant to the language of animals, or don't choose to listen.

After the confrontations occurred, I was sick with fear. I thought they were going to take my pup away and put her to sleep. I cried and prayed to the SkyBears that they would forgive her and let us live in peace. I was ready to disappear into the woods with her forever if they came to take her, but, fortunately, the matters were forgotten. I would have sooner died than live without her. Right or wrong, I would have fought to the death for my daughter. She would have done nothing less for me. Tama sensed my fear and sadness during that time and understood. She never bit anyone again. Because I was denbound when Tama was growing up, I did not take her beyond the woods surrounding our den to socialize her with the other creatures of the world, so she saw most strangers as threats. In the end, I take full responsibility for Tama's actions. I should have taught her better.

For all her fierceness and courage, she did have limits. When we used to go on hikes through the woods, she was ever the alert, over-protective, intimidating Guardian. Anything and everything that approached us was met with a growl, snarl, and a full-speed charge. Sometimes it was all I could do to hold her back. One morning while we were strolling through the woods, a horse and heeyuman rider rounded a bend and met us face to face. Tama had never seen a horse before, and even though her instincts and heart might have been saying "Attack", her brain was saying "B-big...weird...big weird thing...really big...really weird. Dear lord...so big." Her eyes grew wider and wider as she took in the beast towering over her. Then she did something I had never seen her do before when a creature came across our path. She took a step backwards, sat down, leaned against my leg, and watched quietly as the horse passed. To a Guardian, discretion is always the better part of valor. Especially when it is big and weird.

Tama had three animal friends besides me. The first was our cat, Kitty (an original name, I know). She was a fat, lazy creature with a horrible disposition. She could be on your lap purring one moment, then ripping out your jugular vein the next. She was responsible for drawing more blood than the Red Cross. And at this point I should point out that the term 'friend' only applies to Tama's view of the relationship. If 'friend' meant someone you wanted to set on fire and push off a cliff, then yes, I guess Kitty considered Tama a friend. But on Planet Reality, Kitty hated Tama. Kitty considered Tama a friend about as much as a drowning creature considers water a 'blessing'. But Tama loved Kitty. Loved to tease the hell out of her to be exact. At the sight of Kitty, Tama would bound over and pin her to the ground, howling and yapping playfully at her as she pawed at her and snapped her jaws. The cat would hiss and swat at her 'friend' with razor-sharp claws until I could get there and pull them apart. Most of the time Tama was able to jump out of harm's way. However, one night as Tama harassed her dear friend, who was old and intensely crotchety at the time, the cat pierced her ear with one of its claws. When Tama pulled away, she split her ear down the middle so that the tip flopped in two separate pieces. But a German Shepherd Guardian is nothing if not tough, so with blood streaming down her face, she kept on playing. When I was finally able to separate the two, I sent them to their respective corners, tended to Tama's ear, then vowed to never let them have this much 'fun' again.

Tama's best canine friend was a pure black male German Shepherd named Tracer who lived next door. He too was a very intimidating Guardian who protected his den fiercely, but allowed Tama and I into his territory because we were the only creatures who ever showed him any kindness. Tracer was tied up outside most of the time, but I will never forget the few instances when he and Tama escaped and ran free together. They always looked so happy.

Spooky, a small Cocker Spaniel that a friend of mine cared for, went hiking with Tama and I a few times, though I cannot really say the two dogs were close friends. When we were walking Spooky used to circle Tama like a buzzard, darting in to nip, taunt, and harass her. Spooky gave us both a headache. Cocker Spaniels are like that.

Late one night, around two a.m., there was a banging on the door of our den and Tama and I went to investigate. The moment we opened the heavy outer door, we could smell that the creature outside had been drinking heavily. Hidden in the shadows, I called to him through the screen door. "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for someone," the two-legger slurred as he reached for the latch.

As I stepped forward, Tama lunged for the door with both paws, snarling savagely. The man jumped back and stared at us with terror in his eyes...then stumbled away. The sight of an enormous Kodiak and his Shepherd Guardian must have sobered him up very quickly. I do not know what his intentions were, but I do know that once again Tama had valiantly protected me...and probably soiled that man's shorts.

Speaking of soiling. For the longest time Tama was unable to ride in a wagon without getting sick. She was a virtual vomitorium on wheels. She would be fine for a while, then I would see the sides of her belly start contract and knew there was no time to lose.

"Tama, stop! Hold on!" I whimpered frantically, pulling off the side of the road and quickly reaching to pick her up. "Tama, come on. Let's--" before I could finish, she emptied herself all over the seat...and me, "--goooooooohwow. Look at all that kibble. You don't chew much, do you? What the-- A Christmas ornament? How the Hell did you get a hold of that? It's freakin' July!"

Tama and I always slept together in my chamber and found great comfort in each other's presence, but our nightly jousts for position were comical. After my usual pre-bedtime snack, I would waddle into our chamber and find her sprawled out on the bedding. I bent down and nuzzled her head. "And where am I supposed to sleep?"

She looked at me, wagged her tail once, then plopped her head down on the pillow with a grunt as if to say, 'I don't really care. Turn the light off and be quiet.'

She did not like being disturbed when she was lounging, so with a lot of effort, and grunting, I would carefully settle my great bulk beside her. If any part of me accidentally nudged her, she would rumble a low growl (just like her papa bear) and slide off onto the floor begrudgingly. What a grump. Though I was not any better when the tables were turned.

Mornings were as follows: 6:00 a.m. Wet black nose pokes face, followed moments later by a barrage of slobbery kisses. I crack my eyes and see a very happy, and very awake, puppy standing there looking at me, her rump swaying back and forth excitedly. I grumble, turn over, and close my eyes again. 6:02 a.m. Just as I start to fall back to sleep, a familiar black nose pokes the back of my head. I roar, "Tama, go back to sleep!" and hear her lie down. 6:07 a.m. Wet black nose pokes face, followed moments later by a barrage of slobbery kisses. "I'm up! I'm up!"

On snowy winter evenings when the den was empty, we would lie on the floor together in front of the fire and become lost in the stillness. The only sound in the cave was the crackling of the fire, the tick and chime of the clock, and the steady, even rhythm of our breathing.

Her warmth and touch always healed me. I loved feeling her next to me. When she was lying on the floor, I would pull her close and curl my body around hers, tenderly kissing her muzzle as my claws swirled through her chest fur. Sometimes I would take her entire muzzle into my maw so we could take in each other's breath and scent...and become one.

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Did you ever love someone so much that the mere thought of losing them tortured your very soul? That is how I felt about my sweet Tama girl. When she was young and we had a lifetime ahead of us, I would sometimes think of the day we would have to part and feel as if my spirit were dying. I wept whenever I heard tales of creatures having to put their animal companions to sleep because they reminded me of what would eventually come to pass. Just the thought of having to make the decision to end the life of a creature you love with all your heart and to feel them pass away in your arms was the worst pain I had ever known. Tama meant everything to me. She was my best friend...my only friend...my life. Watching her suffer or drift away from me forever was my greatest fear. I knew that some heeyumans left their animals in a healer's office with strangers, or alone, when the time came, and perhaps that made the loss easier for them. But to me it was wrong. I could not bear the thought of my Guardian lying on that table, alone and scared, without a familiar face and voice to comfort her. And when she started to sleep, she would wonder where her pack was...where her family was...where I was. Her last moment on earth would be one filled with fear, sadness, and longing. Yes, it might make it a little easier for me not to have to see her suffer--to see her die--but what about Tama? After all the love she had given me, after standing by my side through every moment of pain, fear, and sorrow, she deserved better. Love, true love, is to gladly sacrifice your well-being and life to be there for someone when they need you. I owed it to her to be by her side when the end came. I loved her at least that much. The moment I realized my true feelings, I went to her.

"Tama?" I whispered as I knelt down beside her, gently scratching her chest as she licked my face. "I love you. And I'll never leave you alone, no matter what happens, okay? I'll be there for you when your time comes and we'll face it together. I promise. I promise..." I held her tight and wept.

--The Pretenders ("I'll Stand By You")

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My entire life I had dreamt of finding a mate, of sharing true love of the heart, soul, and spirit with another. As a bear trapped in a heeyuman world, no one could ever see past my beastly exterior to the truth of my heart, and I had always been alone. Then fate guided another animal to me, the leopard princess K'gra, and my life was filled with a love more beautiful and perfect than I had ever known. As I prepared to bring my lifemate home to our den, I feared that Tama would not accept her. My Guardian never tolerated anyone outside the family, without exception. She had grown up with her pack and was very possessive of us. Even relatives and friends of the family who she had seen before were met with a growl of warning. K'gra had always felt a connection with animals and looked forward to meeting Tama, despite her reputation. The day the princess arrived I paced back and forth, whimpering anxiously. I tried to cling to the hope that the two creatures I loved more than anything in this world would accept one another, but it would take a miracle for that to happen. After hugging and kissing my leopard-mate soundly and welcoming her home, she asked to be introduced to the den's Guardian. Swallowing nervously, I brought Tama outside and held my breath. Tama immediately bolted over to K'gra and the two nuzzled and kissed like they were long-lost sisters. Tears came to my eyes as I watched. Tama could feel the love in K'gra's heart and soul and accepted her into the pack. We were a family now.

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--Sloan ("I Love A Long Goodbye")

In the years that followed, life changed for all of us. Friends and family passed away, I resumed my bard duties and studied to become a healer, all the while trying to overcome the lasting effects of my illness. Tama grayed around her muzzle and slowed down a bit physically, though her mind, and teeth, were as sharp as ever. She had never had strong hips, but they rarely seemed to bother her. One night after returning home from a check-up at the healer's and being given a clean bill of health, K'gra and I noticed that she was having trouble walking. We thought she might just be having a bad day, but her condition quickly worsened and soon it was all she could do to pull herself to her paws. We rushed her to the healer's, terrified that the time had come for me to say goodbye. I sat outside the healer's with Tama in my arms and cried, not wanting to hear the words that would take her away from me forever. Once inside, the kind man spoke very reassuringly and gave me some medication to help her with the stiffness and pain. I was relieved, but for the first time noticed just how old my puppy looked. No creature lives forever, and eventually-- I growled and forced those thoughts from my mind. It was too painful. We had all the time under the stars.

Tama's condition eventually improved, and life went on.

As much as I tried to be a good father, mate, friend, and son, there were times when I felt the pressures of life closing in all around me and lost sight of what was truly important. When the world was more than I could bear, I retreated into myself, leaving my loved ones worried and confused. Because of my state, I was not spending as much time with Tama as I once had. On my good days, we played, hiked, and enjoyed being together. But too often I was not the bear I wanted to be. It was as if I was searching for something that was in front of me all the time. All I had to do was open my eyes.

On a hot summer's day, during a break from my healer duties, I lumbered out into the woods behind our den to visit Tama, who was lounging beneath her favorite tree. She loved being in that beautiful place, playing with the birds, squirrels, and rabbits that came to visit. I would see her being very gentle and kind to the other animals when she thought no one was watching, but the moment she detected a pack member nearby she snapped to attention and drove every creature out of her territory, as if to prove the old Guardian was not going soft. When the safety of her pack was at stake, she took her duties very seriously. As I moved into the cool shade and bent down to give her a hug, I noticed something wrong with her fur and skin. Concerned, I ran to get K'gra. After inspecting Tama for a moment, we both knew something was not right and immediately summoned a hawk messenger to consult the local healer, Regen. Within minutes he sent word to bring her in right away and I galloped back to Tama on all fours as fast as I was able. Panting heavily and feeling nauseous from the intense heat, I led Tama to the front of the den. I had the urge to stop and rest, but when I looked down at my sweet girl I remembered how she had sacrificed everything for me time and time again, and I knew I could not let her down. My weariness forgotten, I scooped her up into my arms, placed her in the cart, and rushed to the healer's.

An assistant said they would contact us with any news, so we returned to our den and waited anxiously. Later that day, a messenger came to fetch us and we rushed back to the healer's to find out how Tama was doing. Aside from a skin rash on her back end and the usual stiffness in her hips, she was in perfect health. Healer Regen told us how he had given her medication to ease the discomfort in her hips and shaved off some of her fur to apply a healing salve to the rash. They were minor ailments but he still wanted to keep her there overnight to make sure that the medication was working and her skin stayed clean. K'gra and I breathed a sigh of relief and smiled happily as the assistant brought Tama into the examination chamber so we could visit.

"Hello, sweet girl," I growled soothingly as I took her in my arms.

K'gra grinned as she saw Tama's shaved lower half. "Naked puppy!"

As we spoke tenderly to her, she curled up on the ground between us and relaxed with a deep sigh.

We had planned to leave on a journey the following day but vowed not to go if there was even the slightest possibility that Tama would need us. Her well-being was the most important thing in the world.

We stopped by to visit her again that evening and met with Regen to talk about how she was doing. He said that in just one day she had improved greatly and everything looked good. After a short play session and lots of hugs and kisses, K'gra and I headed home, still unable to decide if we should leave on our journey.

First thing the next morning we were back at the healer's. Tama seemed in good spirits and was moving around much better. The hip medication seemed to be doing its job. Regen once again gave her a clean bill of health but said they wanted to keep her for one more day so a joint specialist could take a look at her hips.

I told Regen of our plans and asked him over and over again if it would be better if we stayed home.

"Tama's doing fine and feeling much better. I don't see any problems," he reassured us.

"I don't want to leave if she's in any kind of danger. Are you SURE she'll be okay?"

"Aside from the stiffness in her hips and the rash on her skin, which is minor, she's absolutely fine."

"So you think it's okay for us to go away and have our family watch her?"

"As long as they give her the ointment and medication, I don't see why not."

Knowing Tama was not in any danger and that she was in good hands, K'gra and I decided to go on our journey. Up until that moment our plan had been to stay home so we had not packed. The dragon departed in less than an hour, so we would have to rush to get to there on time.

I bent down to give her a scratch behind the ear and stroke her muzzle. "Goodbye, sweet girl. You be good, okay? We'll be back soon." She wagged her tail and smiled, then the healer led her away.

--Sloan ("I Love A Long Goodbye")

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I thought of Tama the whole time we were gone, sending messages to my family two or three times a day to see how she was doing and make sure she was getting her medication. My dad and niece said they were taking good care of her and that she was getting around better than she had in a long time. Every day the news was positive. After reading each message, I would say to K'gra, "I miss Tama. I can't wait to get home and see her."

Saturday night I was very restless and could not fall sleep. After several hours of tossing and turning I quietly got up and padded out to the kitchen to read. In the flickering candlelight I read a tale of a man and his animal companion who died in each other's arms. Tears stained the pages of the book as I stared off into the darkness for a long time...thinking of my sweet girl. Sad, I crawled back into bed and drifted to sleep.

Just after dawn, I woke up in a panic, feeling as if I was going to be sick to my stomach. I lay on my back, panting and striving to calm myself. Slowly the feeling faded and I began to doze, half-awake, half-asleep. I heard the faint sound of a messenger bird calling and my muscles tightened. Slowly, I relaxed and drifted off again. I heard the sound of a second bird landing outside and my heart skipped a beat. My eyes flew open and I was sick with fear. I heard K'gra racing towards me, but even before I saw the expression on her face, I knew.

"No! No! No!" I screamed at K'gra, not wanting to hear the words.

"Tama's gone."

Pain.

There is no greater agony in this life than losing someone you love. For most of the day I sobbed and roared with a grief deeper than I had ever known.

"Please no! Please...please no... I promised I would be with her! I promised I wouldn't leave her alone! Oh God...I promised her! I wasn't there! I should have been there! I wanted to say goodbye..."

More than anything I longed to hold her one last time, if only for a moment. I wanted to feel her warmth and softness against me, to feel her kisses. My paw stroked the blanket beside me over and over again as I wept, as if it could somehow bring me comfort.

My greatest regret in this life is that when her time came, I was not by her side. That is something I will never forgive myself for.

--Coldplay ("The Scientist")

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For the first time in my life, I felt the sting of regret. I had been lost within myself for so long, trapped in a dream from which I could not awaken. I had been selfish. I wasted precious time looking for answers that were right there in front of me all along. All that I had ever needed to fill the emptiness inside was the love and touch of the creatures closest to me--of my Tama. I was awake now...but it was too late.

K'gra asked if I wanted to go home, but the next dragon flight did not leave for another week so we had to stay where we were. There was no reason to return now anyway.

Later that day K'gra, Tolstoy, and I went for a walk through town to try to get my mind off things. As we neared some shops, I began feeling dizzy and sick. It was all too much. With shaking paws I wandered away from the crowds and sat by myself. When I closed my eyes I saw Tama. Her smiling face looked up at me and I reached out to gently scratch behind her ears. When I opened my eyes again, the horrible feeling had passed. My Guardian had come back when I needed her most...and healed me. I slowly trudged back to where the leopard and bear stood, my head hung low. If only I could feel her one last time.

"You okay?" K'gra and Tolstoy asked, concerned.

I nodded weakly.

"Did you want to go in and look around?" The princess motioned to a nearby shop that sold candy and stuffed animals.

I shrugged. "I guess."

Together, we entered the shop. Unaware of my surroundings, I shuffled sadly down one of the aisles. I stopped and wearily hung my head, unable to continue. Then, something seemed to call to me and I glanced to my right to find a bin filled with stuffed animals. In the middle of the pile, almost completely buried, I saw the smiling face of a German Shepherd looking up at me. I gingerly lifted the plushie and looked into a pair of gentle eyes that seemed to be alive. It was Tama. As I stroked its fur I could feel her warmth beneath my paws once more and knew in my heart she had come back to me. With tears in my eyes, I slowly padded up to K'gra with the plushie cradled my arms.

"It's Tama..."

In the middle of the shop, K'gra held me as I wept.

--Coldplay ("Warning Sign")

That little stuffed German Shepherd never left my side that week. When the pain became more than I could bear, I would hug her to my chest, feeling the soft fur against my paw pads. That plushie was the only part of Tama I could touch. It was my lifeline. It was all I had.

Soon the day came for K'gra and I to leave for home. As we soared above the clouds and into the sunset's fire, we could see and feel Tama's spirit in the beauty that surrounded us. Her presence was everywhere. After we landed, the two of us wordlessly trudged to our cart and began the long ride home. We sat in silence with only the horse's rhythmic footsteps and the rumble of the wheels to keep us company. Rounding a bend we saw the sparkle of a village's lights come into view across the river. I suddenly realized that it was the town where Tama was born--where we found one another. As I stared at the lights, I relived that magical day. From somewhere deep within that desolate village, the wind carried the sweet sound of music to my ears. The words and melody held such beauty and hope that the world around me faded away and I was lost in its spell. I found myself sitting beneath Tama's favorite tree once again. And then she appeared, young and strong. My beautiful girl. With love and joy in her eyes she ran to me and leapt atop my bulk. As I engulfed her in my arms, I smelled her sweet scent and felt the warmth of her kisses on my face. I hugged her into the depths of my softness, kissing her muzzle soundly as my paws swirled through her fur. In my heart, I held her forever. The final chords of the song faded away and I felt the rumble of the cart beneath me once more. With tears staining my cheeks, I smiled. I was finally able to say goodbye.

--Coldplay ("Everything's Not Lost")

As we approached the den I could feel Tama's presence growing stronger. For twelve years, I had returned home to find my sweet girl waiting for me, and as our cave came into view something inside me began to hope that maybe...maybe.

We rolled to a stop and I was gripped by an intense, lonely silence. Nothing stirred. There was no one there to greet us. In a dream-like state, I searched the den for my Guardian, only to find ghosts and emptiness in the shadows. The bed where Tama liked to sleep and wait for us was deserted and still. I walked down to her favorite tree, expecting to hear the jingle of her tags as she jumped to her paws to greet me...but the forest was silent. She was gone. I sat beneath the tree and stared out into the darkness, still searching.

For most of the night, I sat alone in those woods. K'gra waited patiently inside the den for me, understanding what I was going through and knowing that I needed time to heal. Her loving arms were always there for me when I returned from the depths of my grief.

In the days that followed, I surrounded myself with as much of Tama's physical presence as I could. I had saved every collar she had ever worn, from her first to the one she was wearing when she passed away. I had the first puppy tooth she lost. Locks of her fur, balls, pucks, leashes, bowls, bedding, and hundreds of pictures were all I had left.

I took Tama's first puppy collar and placed it around the neck of the stuffed German Shepherd. In that toy I see and feel the joy we shared when our lives were beginning. When I am sad or scared, that little pup comforts me and always brings a smile to my muzzle.

Many pictures of Tama hang from the walls of our den. Some show her Guardian self, looking regal, noble, and proud. And some reflect the joy, love, and laughter of her playful soul. One picture in particular captures so much of her spirit it almost feels alive. When I look into her eyes I see such happiness and affection that I can't help but smile.

My family told us of Tama's last moments--how she passed away--but none of it mattered. I only wanted to remember the way she lived. Though there is one story about her final morning that brings a smile to our muzzles. In the end, when she was too weak to rise and not responding to anyone around her, my father called over one of the neighbors (a man she had never liked) to help lift her into the cart so he could take her to the healer. When the man bent to pick up her hind end, she turned and lunged for him. The last thing she did on this earth was to try to protect her family. She was a Guardian to the end. A Guardian forever.

I buried Tama's ashes beneath her favorite tree, where she always stood and waited for me to return. A simple ring of stones marks her place, signifying everlasting life. Caring for her remains stirred little emotion in me. The body and ashes were just a hollow shell. That was not the Tama I knew and loved.

Every day I searched for her as if somehow she was still walking this earth. I had grown accustomed to seeing her nap beneath her favorite tree, trotting around mischievously with her ball, and waiting for us when we arrived home, but when I looked, she was not there. I wanted to see and feel her physical self, and when I could not, her spirit was lost to me...and she was gone forever. As I learned to open my heart, I began to see, feel, and hear her presence. One night, when sleep would not find me, I stared out the window at the yard where she used to play and saw her silvery shadow dancing in the light of the moon. I often heard the echo of her bark in the woods behind our den. And when I was hurting, her love always seemed to find me...and heal me.

Tama did not die, she was reborn. Once I let go of the past and opened my heart to the world around me, I was able to see and feel things as they really are. She is alive and still with us. I have learned to see her with the eyes of my heart. She is my Guardian spirit, now, forever, and always.

As long as a single creature loves us, we will never die. Tama will live forever.

--The Go-Go's ("Here You Are")

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There is no end to this story. True love has no beginning or end. It is everlasting.

I will leave you with the words I wrote to Tama the day after she passed from her physical body. For what it is worth, they are buried with her remains under her favorite tree, though I know her spirit heard them the moment they were born in my heart.

'Every moment we shared is a part of me and is more beautiful and magical than I could ever express. I love you, Tama. My sweet Tama girl. I always loved you. Thank you for saving my life and making this world a better place for me. I miss you and I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when your time came as I had always promised I would be. In your infinite compassion, you waited for me to go away so you could pass on, trying to protect me from the pain of losing you. But not even you could do that, my sweet girl. Nothing can ease the pain I feel now...except your love and touch. If I could have just one more moment with you in this world, I'd hold you close and feel your warmth against me, then kiss your muzzle just as I always did and say, "Thank you for loving me. Thank you for saving me. Thank you for being my friend and soulmate in this life. I love you. Forever. I pray your spirit stays by my side so I will always know the meaning of strength, courage, hope, and love. You taught me what it means to forgive and love without limits. You are free now. You are young forever. You can run and jump again. I will never forget you, Tama. Never. I love you, sweet girl. I love you...

--Bear