It is likely, punkling, that in the first portion of your life, you will be gifted with any number of stuffed and fluffy animals and other objects. Most of these, particularly early in your life, are probably going to be bigger than you are, and quite likely frighten the crap out of you.
As you grow, however, you will become increasingly more attached to those toys that manage to survive your first few years without being a) chewed by the dogs b) buried c) thrown in the creek d) defenestrated from a moving car etc etc.
These toys will have names, bestowed upon them by you or us, they will carry a few scars into their middle years. I'm sure that at least a couple of them will survive an encounter with Purdey, and probably a couple will need urgent surgery to replace limbs, but hey, that's the way these things work.
I had some stuffed toys when I was very young that stayed with me for some time. One bear in particular, named Gark (that was the sound it made), I had well into my teens. Of course, I took it on a school camp and that was the end of it. My leopard, on the other hand, has survived all such attempts at homicidal activity, and it is still with us today, lurking in his lair at the top of the wardrobe. It is this toy that I will present to you when you arrive.
He doesn't have a name (other than Leopard, but then, if your name was Leopard, would you change it?), and his eyes were replaced by buttons about 25 years ago. His tail's been sewn back on more than a couple of times, and there's a few holes in his fur that I'll endeavour to get taken care of before you get here. Apart from that, though, I can attest to him being a worthwhile and excellent companion for such pursuits as watching TV, snuggling, and guarding sleeping infants from monsters.
We'll sew his tail back on if he needs it, we'll replace his eyes if you feel the need to rip them out. Leopard has survived 30 years with me, he can survive you.
Love you.
1 comment:
I was very fond of Gark. He came from Lygon Street.
Post a Comment