Losing Snow

I got a text message today from my older brother. He was the "bearer" of bad news so-to-say. Snow had died. My Snow. My best and most constant childhood companion.

I can't help but feel I ought to shed a tear and write some kind of memoir in his behalf.

Klondike and Snow were household names growing up. In 1995, Ulu, a very pregnant Polar Bear, gave birth to twin cubs. She promptly abandoned them, and the cubs were left to the care of the Zoo staff.
 

They became instant celebrities. I remember watching the nightly news to hear any updates on my bears. I watched them learn to crawl, fight over a bottle, and go out for their very first walk.
               

And I admit, I was a little obsessed.  I would trade any property on the Denver Monopoly board just to own the Denver Zoo (the cubs had their picture on it).  Unfortunately, my siblings also knew that little fact. And they used it to their advantage in their winning schemes.

As luck would have it, my obsession paid off.  I got my very own Snow for my 8th birthday.  These were a HOT item. Trust me; EVERY kid wanted one.  How could you not like a mini-me of your favorite animal? And just like every child's favorite toy, Snow went everywhere with me.  You should be impressed with how white his fur coat still is.
 

 

Snow was my guard against all my scary night imaginings; including Captain Hook, snake infested hallways, the red-dotted shapeshifter, Edward Scissor-Hands, and a fat white bald guy. And since I'm still alive today I have to congratulate Snow on a job well done. Thanks Snow. You were the best.  And every time I come home, you're still ready for active duty.

But to my dear Original Snow, I hope you're happy up there. You've had a great 17 years goin for you. So in behalf of every 90's childhood in Denver, we sure love you! And for the record, your mini-me and I are still rockin it!