Stuffed animals have a history in my family of becoming as beloved as pets. My brother had a stuffed bear that he never let go of when he was growing up; it even got poison ivy one year (which was followed by a traumatic washing experience). I had an Elmo I relentlessly dragged around wherever I'd go.
My niece, Bailey, her stuffed animals are Teds (a large bear she can't quite handle on the daily yet) and Wolfie, who she carries around a lot of the time, and is essential for grumpy times and sleeping. So, when I discovered this morning that my dog, Tebow, had managed to get hold of Wolfie...I panicked a little. In a family where borderline OCD tendencies are arguable and change is normally not well embraced, I was expecting the worst.
But she proved strong (or indifferent)... I actually think I panicked more than Bailey ever did. She didn't seem alarmed by the stuffing pouring out of Wolfie's wound...in fact, she pulled some more out.
There was definitely a chunk that is now forever gone, but I still managed to acceptably stitch him back together. His ear even still flops a little (that took some work). It was a little tough to try and sew with the 1.5 year begging to have her Wolfie back...with a needle sticking out of his head. But Bailey doesn't seem to mind Wolfie's scars. She served as a good reminder today to not be so attached to material things and embrace the little things in life - hiccups and all - without a sweat or worry.
When Tebow gets sad because he's outside by himself, Bailey will put her toys through the door to help make him feel better. Today, she offered up Wolfie. (And in Tebow's defense...she did give it to him.)