It’s time you learned the truth about Oscar. The portly bear has a small skeleton in his closet … one about the size and shape of a beer can. In fact, if allowed access to … and free rein in … a beer parlor, he’d become a dedicated boozer bear before you could burp “Bud Lite!”

We have never bought beer for Oscar because we don’t want to be accused of leading him down the road to utter degradation … but we can’t turn his gift-bearing admirers away. The hunters of autumn keep him so overly supplied with “the suds” that we have to stash it away and pour it out for him in small rations. Some bear hunters have been sending annual Christmas checks-for-beer. Perhaps a portion of that money should be set aside in the event Oscar loses control and has to check in at the Betty Ford Clinic. Right now, he’s handling it very well … probably because … until yesterday … he hadn’t imbibed since Christmas … when someone put a bottle in the red felt stocking hanging on his pen door.

Since Oscar’s reflexes and coordination aren’t in sync, he doesn’t lie on his back or sit on his haunches while guzzling from a can or bottle. He’s unable to grasp or lift objects with his paws, so we pour the beer into a plastic feed scoop. Oscar backs up and shakes his head if the beer is fizzing … which makes it necessary to de-bubble it before he considers sticking his nose into the scoop. I hold the scoop at bear-chin height while he slobbers and slurps.

Oscar laps the scoop dry … then eats the shavings where a few drops may have drizzled. When he sits back on his haunches and gets that “spacy” look in his eyes … I step aside because I know what’s coming next … a huge beery burp that can rock a person back on his heels!

Oscar can handle only the light beers … no ale. Someone slipped him a can of Colt 45 last summer … and, when I looked in on him later, he was lying on his side with his back feet in the white cast iron sink that serves as his water dish. In other words, he’d been knocked off his paws. Neither can he handle more than one can at a time. After guzzling two small cans of Miller Lite, he tried to scratch himself against the side of his pen. He was going throught the scratching motions, but there was about six inches of space between him and the wall!

If you’re interested in how much food it takes to refuel Oscar, his average meals include two loaves of dark bread … four to six doughnuts … three to five pounds of dog chow … table leftovers moistened with warm milk. Now and then his bread is moistened with beer, which, we’ve been told, is good for his health and pelt. He also has helpings of the molasses-covered horse feed … raw carrots … apples … but no raw meat. We were warned the raw meat might cause him to cultivate a taste for an arm or a leg!

Oscar’s diet must be doing all right by him because his pelt remains sleek and shining … his eyes are bright … his nose is cold. Of course, he’s always been overweight and out of shape … but,how can you tell when a bear is “out of shape” since there’s not much shape to them, anyway. I recall asking a bear research biologist … at the time Oscar weighed in at 160 when he should have weighed only 80 … if he thought the extra poundage was due to a “runaway” gland. He answered, “No, it’s due to an overly indulgent `mother!’ ”