Sometimes we would go for long walks along the river and you could almost forget for a little while that you were a bear and not people.
Once when we were out strolling for a very long time, we came home and you could see that someone had broken in and the door was open.
”La port est ouverte,” said Mama Bear. “The door should not be open.” Mama Bear had French blood on her father’s side.
”It is all right,” I said. “We will close it. Then it will be good like in the old days.”
”Bien,” she said. “It is well.”
We walked in and closed the door. There were dishes and bowls and all manner of eating utensils on the table and you could tell that someone had been eating porridge. We did not say anything for a long while.
”It is lovely here, “ I said finally. “But someone has been eating my porridge.”