Do not judge me for this post. I will hit you.
Let me just get right to the point here: If you’ve been following my blog since I first started it (which I know for a fact that none of you have), you may remember my first post, titled Stuffed Animal Hospital?. Well, basically, I wrote that in November, but alas, here we are again. By the way, if you haven’t read that: Read it, or this post will not make any sense.
I eventually gave up hope that Dotty would be repaired; I couldn’t afford to fix him, so he would live the rest of his stuffed animal days in cyclopsness. However, now his eye is not the only problem.
Dotty is about fifteen or sixteen years old, as far as I can remember. Not only is he a cyclops, but he’s starting to get a little…well…thin.
As time goes on, stuffing inside of stuffed animals tends to disappear. Where it goes, I will never know, but considering Dotty is my oldest stuffed animal, his stuffing has basically just turned into a ball in the middle of his body. It’s depressing, really. He used to be able to sit up straight, and now he just flops over.
I AM AN ADULT, I PROMISE.
Well, as mentioned in my previous post, I began speaking to a woman named Beth who runs a “stuffed animal hospital” in California last November. After giving up on fixing Dotty, I stopped talking to her.
Guess who got an email from me last week? Beth.
Beth once again explained her pricing to fix poor Dotty, and promised she would take good care of him.
My 19th birthday –yes, I’m serious– is on Sunday, and in the car today, my mom mentioned something about Dotty. She knows that Dotty’s cyclopsness bothers me, and she mentioned that maybe we could get Dotty’s eye fixed. That is, until I told her what the price would be to send Dotty to California and fix him. As I’ve mentioned before, it’s not outrageous, but to anyone who doesn’t understand my love for stuffed animals, you’d probably punch me in the face if I told you.
This is going to take some convincing, but I’m hoping it will all work out.
You’re probably thinking “Are you insane? It’s a stuffed dog.”
Saddle up, squadlings, it’s story time.
Yes, Dotty is a stuffed dog. I got him on a camping trip when I was either three or four years old, and I’ve had him ever since. He was my companion when I was home sick from school. I would hug him and cry when my older brother was “mean to me.” When I was little, all I wanted was a dog, but I couldn’t have one (now I have two, go figure). Dotty was my dog. I “fed” him Grape Nuts more often than I should have. Sorry, Mom…
Yes, I know I’m ridiculous. I plan on taking Dotty, along with a plethora of other stuffed animals, to my university with me when I transfer out of community college. Don’t even bother asking, honestly.
My point is, repairing Dotty has been something I’ve wanted to do for years. Now that he honestly needs more than just a new eye, I figure, why not?
Oh, right, because I’m broke.
Don’t judge me.