Growing up with my crazy animal lady mom, I've had hundreds of pets. I'm talking pet dogs (most at one time was 27), cats, birds, fish, gerbils, goats, cows (they figured out how to open the sliding glass door and come in the kitchen; would moo you in the face when you were coming down the hall and scare the hell out of you), a pet fox and a pet bear. Quick like a fox is real. Also, bears are really cool. Very loyal little dude. He was a little black orphan. My sister kept him in a little cage (he didn't need a cage) and was planning on upgrading it, but he died before she could. If you let him out of his cage that meant wrestling, 100% of the time.
You see him for the first time and your first thought is, 'What the hell is wrong with my family?'. So you look closer and say, ok it's a dog. Then you let him out and begin wrestling and you quickly go, 'Oh, but quick like a cat!'. Then he chomps on you and you say, 'Oh no, that's a BEAR! What the hell is wrong with my family?'.
Very fast and VERY strong. The thing was, he was keeping score, so every time you scored a point, he'd escalate until wrestling always ended with, 'Ow ow, get off me you stupid bear' and put him back in his cage. You'd be a bit bruised and maybe a bit bloody, but he was being gentle. I have no doubt he could have crushed my legs or arms, but he was just playing.
My sister went away for a week and the guy that was supposed to give him water didn't, and he died in his little cage. Already an orphan too. She absolutely refused to tell him who was to look after him, which was good for that person.
You have to be careful and understand animals though; one of my favorite Gary Larson cartoons is of an old trapper in his cabin with a hook for an arm, beside his pet bear eating out of her supper dish. The trapper's saying, 'Yep, raised the ol' girl from a cub, I did. Course we had to get a few things straight between us. She don't try to follow me into town anymore, and I don't take away her food bowl 'till she's done'.