This is my little friend. Ummm, it has just now occurred to me that he doesn’t have a name. Everyone just calls him “Mama’s buddy.” And they leave him alone. At least after the first time. He is, in case you were wondering, sitting on our bed. He hangs out there or at the foot of the bed. Am I regressing? Ummmm, please see the name of this blog if this comes into question again. Thank you.
So yes, regressing. During the time of Mama’s HospitalStay, I was there and then only home for sleep for several days straight. The weather for one night was supposed to be pretty harsh. (For those not from Georgia, that means we might have to run the heat.) We have two cats who stay on our back porch, and I figured they probably wouldn’t sleep in the hut we’ve provided. I decided to stop at Goodwill and find a comforter or something that they could use as a tent and huddle up under. It was pretty late, so almost the store’s closing time. I was on the phone with my Aunt giving her the latest update and shopping for said blanket at the same time. (‘Cause yeah, I can double task like that. Or maybe not. Read on.) As I walked through the blanket section, I found myself distracted, trying to pick just the right color. And I told my aunt this. (See filter broken–who confesses to buying a blanket for their cats based on color?!) She laughed and we said goodbye, and I tried to focus on just finding a blanket. Finally I found a sleeping bag (in a lovely gray, teal, yellow color scheme–ummm, I mean a very functional one), and I headed to the checkout just as they were announcing their impending closing of the store.
And there he was. In the bin of stuffed animals that usually looks like the toys that were run through the daycare center in Toy Story 3–they make me so sad. But he was propped up on top. Looking quite new. I walked over, and looked at his tag. He was formerly known as a Build A Bear workshop doggy. Well now. I figured out he could be washed in the machine. So, for less than $2 and in dire need of sleep and decision making skills, I added him to my purchase.
I don’t know why I got him, but I did. I checked out with my (lovely–really, you should have seen it) sleeping bag and puppy all for less than $7, I think. I could justify my purchase and say that it’s helping put someone to work. Which it is. One of the reasons I love shopping at Goodwill, but that’s another story. In the interest of full disclosure, I bought him, I think, because in the midst of chaos and heartbreak, I needed comfort. Maybe I thought he needed rescuing as much as I did. In hindsight, I think he took me back to my birthday when I was 12.
I had seen a stuffed bassett hound at the store, and I NEEDED him. Mama and Daddy were not encouraging. It wasn’t Christmas or my birthday, and I was 11. “Not gonna happen” was written all over their faces. But then, on my twelfth birthday, there, with the crossword puzzle cake Mama had made and decorated, was Bogart the Bassett Hound. I slept with him FOR YEARS. He’s somewhat flatter now. But loved nonetheless. He represents love and being heard and mattering so much to someone else that they worked to make a dream come true. In the midst of losing all that, here came Buddy.
I brought Buddy home and washed and dried him. It was a couple of weeks later before I found myself headed to bed at a decent hour. And it was then that I pulled him up from the foot of the bed, and propped my arm on him. He’s a great propper-upper. Of spirits–I mean look at that precious face–and of arms.
Hi, my name is Tara, I’m 4*** years old and I have a stuffed animal (or two) on my bed. Perfectly normal and appropriate. Or maybe. I might need a nap.