Meet Sammy. He's my buddy. He's who I curl up with at night because he fits nicely in the crook of my arm. He has beanies in his butt and a kissable nose.
He's who I cuddle up with when I'm sad. Charlie gives me hugs and kisses, but when I'm still crying and in need of comfort twenty minutes later, he hands me Sammy.
Sammy was a gift from Emily. She knew I needed a friend (this was back when I was still single) and she was leaving for the summer, so she brought me Sammy.
Emily was blogging about how we hold on to things, and Sammy, like any stuffed animal, is something I should have let go of long ago. But somehow all my tears feel better when Sammy is there. When we lost the adoption, Sammy was my buddy, my friend, my secret confidant.
All day long I am a big girl, wearing my big girl pants, running my life and getting things done. I'm an adult, I work, I feed myself and pay my bills. But when I'm sad, Sammy is always there, quietly listening.
It may be silly or sad or pathetic, but Sammy won't be going anywhere anytime soon.
Any other animal lovers out there?
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