Item Number 7: Cat (White), Stuffed

Time in possesion: The better part of 20 years.

Description: (Mostly) white stuffed cat, although it's harder and harder to tell. Amazingly well loved. Formerly had a bell at the end of her tail, but was clogged and then removed long ago. Stiched up repeatedly. I think she's pretty cute, but she has taken on, I must admit, many rag-like qualities over the years.

Cost: Another item stolen from my mother, so yet another free item. It was a really nice stuffed animal before I got my hands on it, so I'll say 20$.

Story: Most people have a childhood toy that they loved above all over. A bear, a blanket, whatever. This cat is mine. She was a gift to my mother when she quit her job at Air Canada, a stuffed animal from Bowring & Co. The story as I remember it is this: I'm little, and my mom is on the phone. I don't know how old I am- Maybe three? Old enough to walk at least. In any case, I go into my mom's room and upon seeing that she is talking on the phone grab the stuffed cat which sits on the foot of her bed. It's one of those "kid trying to be sneaky even though the grown-up is looking right at them" moments. Anyway, I've got the cat and I run away. The cat has been mine ever since.

One of the frequent offers over the years has been to re-stuff the poor creature, since she has been pretty saggy in her body for years. However, the reason for that was because I loved to wrap her around my neck much like the now widely available travel pillows- What can I say, I was ahead of my time? - and that comfortable "worn-ness" is not something I'm likely to give up quickly. That being said, she has taken more then her fair share of abuse- her eyes are cracked from frequent trips to the dryer, her ears once pink now a dull grey. On more then one occasion she has been spun around by her tail or tied into knots and she has parts of her that are almost threadbare to show for all those years of faithful service. I was kind of a jerk to her.

Alright, so the story that this is all building up to: When I was little I couldn't get to sleep without my cat, not uncommon for any comfort object. The difference is that my mother called it my "Pussy Cat" which I then shortened to "Pussy". You can tell where I'm going with this. I have a couple of Scottish cousins who still love to tell me about the time when I was 4 or 5 and telling them about how I "can't get to sleep without my Pussy" and how "I love my Pussy". What a bunch of jerks. :)

She spends her time now either with my few stuffed animals or (most often) on the foot of my bed. She's earned a place of honor.