SHAUNAVON — Have I told you lately how brilliant and creative our local librarians are? I was honoured to be invited as the guest reader/stuffy music teacher for the library’s third annual “Stuffy Sleepover.” I’m not sure who enjoyed the sleepover more…the stuffed animals or the librarians?.? Hopefully, all of the littles who left their prized stuffed animal in the staff’s capable hands were able to manage through any separation anxiety that night. After all, isn’t that what stuffies were created to do?
They’re a friend to hang onto when our parents or other caregivers can’t be with us. Regardless of what pet name you call them: stuffy, lovey, binky or teddy, that precious creature is often our first and sometimes best and longest serving friend.
Raccoons seem to be the stuffy of choice lately; I see them in the arms of preschoolers everywhere. It was no different when I was a child. Ricky Raccoon was a favourite of mine for a long time. He went everywhere with us. When we ate at Bonanza or Ponderosa, he would feast on the parsley that garnished my Dad’s chopped steak entree. My guest for the library sleepover was Mr. Raccoon, one of my great-niece’s favourite friends. Another great-niece brought her Richard Raccoon (Ricky, Richard…I guess it’s a family name).
On a family trip to Lethbridge when I was probably 7 or 8, we visited a large mall; the biggest mall I had ever been to. Cousin Sylvia insisted on buying for me what would become my most endearing and longest enduring stuffy: Monk. Monk was, you guessed it, a monkey; a thumb-sucking monkey teddy. Admittedly, his name was not my finest creative moment. Monk went everywhere with me, even to the hospital for small surgical procedures that I had when I was very young. He brought me good luck, so I made sure to send him along, decades later, when other family members had to stay in hospital for various reasons. The bottom of his foot is tattooed with the initials of everyone who got to cuddle him for those medical stays.
Homemade stuffies, particularly bears made of old fur coats, were popular for a while. My Mom cherished her fur coat and didn’t put that on the chopping block for us, but she did make me a stuffed Popeye doll from felt. Homemade treasures like this are irreplaceable. Crocheted stuffies are seeing a resurgence with some very talented local artists creating adorable creatures with some great outfits. Those outfits are sometimes more popular than the animal itself and the proud little owner will decide to create their own fashion trends by wearing a pair of knit bloomers on their head or wearing a crocheted dress themselves until it’s eventually outgrown and becomes a snug-fitting tank top. However, the love for our favourite stuffed toy isn’t something we outgrow.
We named our daughter ‘Auburn’, and we have not, in her 22 years, found that unique name on any of those racks of kitschy, personalized souvenir items. However, I was lucky enough to find a large Ty brand stuffed bear at the local True Value store with that very name when she was a baby. It had been advertised in the flyer, so I went in to see if they had any. Seeing none on the shelf, I asked the clerk, explaining why I wanted that specific bear. She hesitated and then pulled one out from under the counter at the register; she had set it aside for herself, but quickly handed it over, realizing that its new adoptive family had been found. Auburn and Auburn went everywhere together. We attended a wedding in Manitoba when our daughter was six. On the ride home, she realized she didn’t have her bear and there was much sadness. I called the hotel to let them know to look out for it. After a day or so, Auburn squealed from her bedroom; she had found her BFF in the closet. It had been there all along and hadn’t even made the journey with us. I’m sure some humans would go to similar great lengths to avoid attending a wedding. As I was writing this, I texted my daughter to ask where Auburn the bear was these days. Her reply: a laughing emoji and “She’s with me, of course.”
Our son had a Ty brand husky pup named Slush. Last year, I found the same miniature baby Slush, and of course, I bought it: stuffies are addictive. There are a few good reasons to purchase new ones (back-up raccoons, baby Slushes that fuel nostalgia, etc.), but after a certain point, they begin to multiply on their own in the toy box. There seems to be more each time you open the lid. Scandalous.
The new Jellycat brand is the latest craze. They’re adorable and soapysoft. (Mr. Raccoon is evidence of that.) Squishmallows (or, puffalumps, as I like to call them) have invaded my daughter’s empty bedroom, filling the void nicely. Are they really as cuddly and comforting as they look? Asking for a friend. If not my favourite, then certainly my largest stuffed animal was a brown bear, about 4’ tall, that I won in an Easter colouring contest from Macleods Hardware Store in the early 1980s. Who knew that hardware stores were such purveyors of stuffed animals?. Due to his impressive size, I never could part with him and he still lives under my stairs in semi-permanent hibernation, ready to awaken from his deep slumber one fine, future spring day when my house might once again be filled with a new generation of littles. I look forward to repeatedly telling the grandkids all about the time that granny/great auntie won this magnificent bear in a colouring contest.
It is only proper to have ALL of your stuffed animals in bed with you so that no one feels left out. Nothing is more comforting than a bed full of stuffed animals that will protect you through the night. I’m sure those Librarians were well-cared for at the sleepover last week. And vice versa. Thanks for reading and don’t hesitate to take your stuffy with you the next time you visit your local library.
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