The stuffed bear was dearer to the boy than a pet, perhaps dearer than a cousin or sibling. Always, he brought it along to Grandma’s farm.

When he snagged it on a barn nail, cotton stuffing erupted. He stared horrified then sprinted to the house, every second critical.

“Earl is hurt!” he shrieked. “He’s dying!”

Grandma appeared quickly. She pried the bear gently from his fist and carried it to her sewing machine. Within moments it was saved, scarred but alive.

“Thanks, Lady,” said the bear jumping down and walking off with the boy.

Grandma drank more cold medicine.