I can’t throw stuffed animals away because it feels like…..murder. I did it once, a long time ago. I was a different person then – you wouldn’t even recognize me as I am today. All I can say is that I was in a crazy place in my life. When I am some day standing up for the Final Judgment, and they are reciting the long list of my thoughtless transgressions, I know that throwing away a helpless, harmless teddy bear is going to come up. It haunts me even now.
The other day I was driving along a fairly busy street and there - in the gutter near an intersection - was a small stuffed… I don’t know what… but his tiny body was all twisted upside down and his little happy face was smiling at me, despite his unfortunate circumstances. They never give up on us! Why do we give up on them?
Oh sure, I understand – the mere subject opens up so many debates that it boggles the mind: should stuffed animals be allowed to roam freely within your house? Is it okay to box them up? What about the ones – like the cheap hot pink snakes and the crudely sewn carnival pandas – that should never have been “created” at all? Do we treat them as lesser beings? I could go on for hours, but I want to be able to sleep tonight.
