The cuddly rascal who suddenly joined my family (which also included four cats and a dog) caught me unprepared. The first night, I lay in bed listening to his haunting cry. I crept out and sat near him in his den.

After a few minutes he crawled on my lap and sucked the pads on his front feet. I hummed and rocked him to sleep. The first six months, I rocked Buffy to sleep every night. I spent hours feeding him, playing with him, watching him. Every sound or gesture puzzled me.

Because Buffy's muscle structure and coordination resembles that of a human, his play is very humanlike. Mentally, I found him much harder to  figure out. As a mere 100-pound cub, he would stand and shake his head playfully at a neighbor's angry Angus bull. Other times he would cower behind me at the sight of a small lamb.

And he is so mischievous. One day Buffy, then 6 years old and 400 pounds, sneaked into the house while I was gone. For an hour he sat the bathtub, tearing down the shower curtains and biting open every bottle of shampoo and conditioner he could find. He even turned on the water and smeared some toothpaste in his armpits and on the ceiling!

What a mess! But he was so proud of himself, I had to hug him.

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