Larry

I woke to the sound of a dog barking. Rolling over, I propped myself up on my elbows, eyes wide but not seeing. 

“Larry?” I heard a muffled voice ask, “Is there a bear, Larry?”

Larry only barked louder. 

There was a rustle followed by the sound of a tent zipper being ripped open. 

“Is there a bear Larry?” Jesse cooed.

The zipper on the outer shield of Jesse’s tent flew up, screeching as the teeth failed to hold it closed. Larry kept barking, reverberating off the trees and floating over the lake we’d settled beside. 

There was a moment when even the wind stopped blowing and I imagined Jesse and Larry staring silently at one another. Then Jesse’s voice pierced the silence, a quiet command. 

“Go get the bear, Larry.” 

Larry’s paws broke branches and scattered leaves as he tore through the woods, Jesse barging after, sticks at head heigh snapping as he pushed them away. 

He whooped into the night, “Go get the bear Larry!” 

*   *   *

A group of planters had gathered under a tree near the road the led into camp. They were cheering for the guy who attempted to climb up it, reaching his bare arm tentatively towards the shape that was cornered up there. I wandered closer, mouth falling slightly open at the yearling bear, just old enough to be separated for its mother. I stood back in awe as he literally poked the bear before jumping down to hollers and pounding hands against his back. His eyes glowed with adrenaline, his crooked smile with pride. 

Larry trotted out of the woods, golden tail high like a flag, and jumped up to prop his curly haired paws against the tree. Positioned like that, he was nearly long enough to make it halfway to the bear. He didn’t bark, rather, stared down the animal with curiosity, nearly a smile on his face, his tail lazily brushing the air. Him and the bear watched each other with the same fascination before Jesse came over from the campfire to grab his collar and drag him away. This signalled the disbanding of the spectators, as we followed their retreat. Jesse let go of the collar and I watched in fascination Larry’s discipline and the way Jesse’s curly haired bun bounced in time with his companion’s labradoodle body. 

*   *   *

Graham always sat next to me on the bus ride out to the land so I would have a shoulder to rest my head against. Jesse and Larry sat on the seat across the aisle, Larry splayed across Jesse’s lap. Jesse fell asleep before the bus even left camp, having been up all night again chasing the bears out. Scott had had his tent slashed a couple nights back; it made off with some toothpaste, which I guess is karma for poking the bear. 

We weren’t planting far from the camp so the crew bosses were all given bear bangers and air horns in case they were still hanging around. Graham and I planted in the same piece we’d nearly finished the day before. It was midday when I started noticing the scat and footprints. The sun was still high when I heard Larry start barking. Climbing up onto a rock, I scoured the clear cut land for Jesse’s hot pink hardhat. It moved between ten year old poplar bushes towards the back of my piece. Following their trajectory, I spotted Larry’s goal. Right at the tree-line stood what must have been the same bear. It was looking towards the sound of the barking, but, for a moment, turned its eyes towards me. I pulled up my whistle, ready to signal Graham that it was near by, but paused. Suddenly, it broke eye contact with me and turned for the trees. Larry stopped where it had been standing and Jesse turned around, spotting me. 

“I got it,” he yelled. 

I waved my arm in recognition and hopped down, picking up my shovel and continuing along my line. 

*   *   *

Larry sat just outside the mess tent, waiting for dinner to finish. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, a wide grin spreading through his curly beard. He stood to attention when Jesse rose from the table, lapping up his scraps immediately after they were dumped from the electric-green plastic plate. After cleaning the dish, he wiped his hands on his mud streaked pants and waited for the camp meeting to start, leaning against the pole just by the entrance, Larry’s head at his feet. 

Andy brought out dessert from the kitchen bus; this signalled the start of Tony’s meeting. As camp manager, we all respected him so all the seats were full and the smokers stood at the entrances on opposite sides, blowing clouds into open air. 

“I think we’ve all noticed that there’s been a bit of bear problem with camp,” he started. The crowd chuckled uncomfortably. “We’re not going to move the camp or anything, we just need everyone to be on the same page.”

He went on to review bear safety and to encourage us to be absolutely certain that there were no “smellies” in any of our tents. We would also be dumping all food waste into a separate garbage that would be scattered a little ways off from our position. This would hopefully encourage whatever bear had been hanging around and growing too comfortable to move its territory that way.

Larry and Jesse then came forward and Tony outlined how they would start staying up overnight, keeping watch and driving the bear away if it started getting too close. The two would sleep during the days, getting paid a day rate rather than the piece rate for trees planted. They were met with huge applause and someone even ran up to lift Larry high into the air, only making the thundering noise ripple louder off the cloth walls that surrounded us.

*    *    *

When we got back to camp, the provincial supervisor was there. He was a big man, bearded but with a soft smile. He was talking to Tony in the office, a rifle slung across his back. It was quieter than usual when we gathered into the mess tent for end of the workday soup and cornbread. 

Larry wore a leash, tethered to Jesse’s side. It was the first, and would turn out to be the only, time that I witnessed Larry on a leash. It was also the only time other than the camp meeting that Larry was allowed in the mess tent. Tony stopped everyone before they could head to the campfire outside. We overflowed the tables and chairs, breathing in deeply the tension that thickened the air. I turned to Graham seated beside me, question in my eyes.

“Bill’s here,” he said. 

“Yeah, so?” I asked. 

“I think they’re going to kill the bear.”
“Kill it?” my heart rate accelerated and I looked for Larry, head resting on Jesse’s feet. 

“Bill’s got a rifle,” his brow creased and he leaned down to whisper in my ear, “The bear isn’t going away and it costs too much to remove it. They got someone from the company and they’ll hope it scares them enough to stay away.” 

“Is that legal?” I matched his low tone.
“Definitely not.” 

Tony stood in the middle and introduced us all to Bill. He wasn’t wearing the rifle anymore. I barely heard the order not to leave the tent until further notice. Bill and Tony left after that and Graham slung an arm over my shoulders. Some people tried to get card games going but the laughter was forced as we waited for the inevitable to happen. 

They never actually said they were going to shoot the bear, but I flinched twice at the two gunshots that rang out, one after the other. Graham’s arm tightened around me each time. They split the silence, splintering against the pressure weighing down on each person’s shoulders. I looked at Graham and was met with a look of anger riddled with guilt and grief. 

Suddenly, another shot was fired. I looked to Larry, Jesse’s knuckles white around his collar, the only thing that betrayed his calm face. Larry stared at the sound, but made no effort to move, instead leaning back to press his body against Jesse’s leg.