Two characters.
A few tall tales.

TALE NUMBER ONE

A little dog. A very big bear.

Otis knew he was in deep trouble. A longtime wildlife tracker outside Yellowstone, he knew the sounds of approaching animals. And that crashing behind him belonged to something huge.

He turned. There it was: the biggest, meanest, most wild-eyed grizzly he’d ever seen. Just as the bear sized up the mountain man for a snack, a white toy poodle trotted into the clearing.

Man and bear froze. Otis swears they looked at each other, then at the dog, then back again. The poodle wagged her fuzzy tail. The bear answered with a roar that practically straightened her curls.

One swipe sent the little dog tumbling. But she was back on her feet in a flash, darting between the bear’s legs like an unhittable round of Whack-A-Mole. Finally, she caught his back ankle. The startled bear bolted into the brush, poodle attached.

Otis stood still, wondering whether he’d imagined the whole thing. Then the poodle emerged alone and trotted straight to him.

He picked her up and noticed the scratches. “Damn, girl, you been clawed. Let’s go clean you up.”

The scars stayed. So did the name. Claude got a cabin home. Otis got the smallest, fiercest bodyguard in bear country.

TALE NUMBER TWO · “THE REAL STORY”

Claude needed a better dog toy.

One summer day on the Mississippi Delta, a large, portly fella named Otis sat on his porch, busting out a new tune on his old harp. Steaming tire swings. Drunk mosquitoes. Creole aromatherapy.

Beside him lay Claude, his longtime dog and companion. Claude wasn’t especially moved by the daily concert. But he sat through it because he was a dog, and that’s what dogs do.

This particular tune, though, made Claude yearn for something more. A better life. A better home. Air conditioning. No ears. All of it sounded pretty darn good.

But what he really needed was a reason to get off that porch before he turned on Otis.

Claude needed a better dog toy.