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Today's Topic: Cuddly Animal Toys:
( OMG! This post is illustrated! )
There are times, when the clock is creeping past midnight, past the wee hours, and toward absolute morning, and I can't sleep. It's at those times that part of me cries out for a teddy, (or bunny, or lion, or lamb) to cuddle.
I have stuffed animals on the futon in my great room: 1) a homemade Pooh, Kanga, and Roo that a friend of my aunt made for my cousins when they were small, 2) some castaway toys that the kids of my first aide didn't want anymore, 3) and an art object stuffed rabbit that I gave to my mother for her birthday one year (that the kids of that aide busted open while swinging it around like a baseball bat). But I don't ever considering cuddling them -- they're just decorations to me (sorry,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mr_moley)
I also have a whistling Major Clanger, and a cuddly, yawning Bagpuss. Both sent bygordon_r_d. But Major Clanger is too small to take to bed (though I do like to squeeze his tummy and hear him whistle, when I need cheering) and Bagpuss isn't really mine, anymore -- he's been appropriated by my cat, Manda as her cuddly toy ... more on that later.
I think (for me, at least, ymmv) it really is all about those adorable button eyes. Human beings just connect to things with faces and eyes -- it's hard not to see faces everywhere -- even electrical outlets. But button eyess alone don't make a soul. It's what those eyes have witnessed that counts -- whether that creature of cotton wool, rags and thread -- was there to bear witness to the important moments of your life, so they can remind you of those moments when you most need to remember them. If they can bear witness for you, then they become alive, and can comfort you in the wee hours of the night. And I suspect that's why the cuddly animals on my futon are more soft sculpture decorations than anything I would snuggle -- they don't know me.
Now, with Manda and Bagpuss, she couldn't care less about Bagpuss's eyes -- she's a cat, and is not hard-wired for anthropomorphic faces, like we are. But she loves his backside -- loves to mock nurse/knead his back from the tail end. She'll get into that "cloud nine" zone, it's one of the few times when she will purr with gusto. I have Bagpuss at the foot of my bed, and she will spend several minutes kneading him like that before settling down to sleep with me at night. Most of the time, she looks solid jet black, but in certain light, you can see she's really striped with dark red-brown and black. And I wonder if her mother's belly was striped white and grey (since cats can't see pink, Bagpuss probably looks white and grey to her). If so, it could be that Bagpuss's round, furry, striped back reminds Manda of her mother's round, furry, striped belly. And that would mean that a cuddly animal's ability to remind us of the important times when we were small isn't restricted to humans.
Most of the cuddly animal toys who witnessed important times in my life are long gone -- donated to future generations. And I can't replace them with a bought thing, now. But Father is bringing down one cuddly toy that I remember from my crib days: a big, cuddly hedgehog with a checkerboard-patterened body in shades of grey and brown, and brown yarn "quills" that are dreadlock-like. For most of the last 30 years, Hedgehog has been residing in a high bookshelf in the living room of my old house. And he's a wee bit moth-eaten. But it will sure feel good to hug him again.
I've also been contemplating making a cuddly toy for myself, as a sort of huggable talisman. If I tell it what I remember of my childhood as I'm stitching it up, and sewing in those button eyes, maybe it will be almost as if those eyes witnessed my life all along.
What do you think?
( OMG! This post is illustrated! )
There are times, when the clock is creeping past midnight, past the wee hours, and toward absolute morning, and I can't sleep. It's at those times that part of me cries out for a teddy, (or bunny, or lion, or lamb) to cuddle.
I have stuffed animals on the futon in my great room: 1) a homemade Pooh, Kanga, and Roo that a friend of my aunt made for my cousins when they were small, 2) some castaway toys that the kids of my first aide didn't want anymore, 3) and an art object stuffed rabbit that I gave to my mother for her birthday one year (that the kids of that aide busted open while swinging it around like a baseball bat). But I don't ever considering cuddling them -- they're just decorations to me (sorry,
mr_moley)I also have a whistling Major Clanger, and a cuddly, yawning Bagpuss. Both sent by
gordon_r_d. But Major Clanger is too small to take to bed (though I do like to squeeze his tummy and hear him whistle, when I need cheering) and Bagpuss isn't really mine, anymore -- he's been appropriated by my cat, Manda as her cuddly toy ... more on that later.I think (for me, at least, ymmv) it really is all about those adorable button eyes. Human beings just connect to things with faces and eyes -- it's hard not to see faces everywhere -- even electrical outlets. But button eyess alone don't make a soul. It's what those eyes have witnessed that counts -- whether that creature of cotton wool, rags and thread -- was there to bear witness to the important moments of your life, so they can remind you of those moments when you most need to remember them. If they can bear witness for you, then they become alive, and can comfort you in the wee hours of the night. And I suspect that's why the cuddly animals on my futon are more soft sculpture decorations than anything I would snuggle -- they don't know me.
Now, with Manda and Bagpuss, she couldn't care less about Bagpuss's eyes -- she's a cat, and is not hard-wired for anthropomorphic faces, like we are. But she loves his backside -- loves to mock nurse/knead his back from the tail end. She'll get into that "cloud nine" zone, it's one of the few times when she will purr with gusto. I have Bagpuss at the foot of my bed, and she will spend several minutes kneading him like that before settling down to sleep with me at night. Most of the time, she looks solid jet black, but in certain light, you can see she's really striped with dark red-brown and black. And I wonder if her mother's belly was striped white and grey (since cats can't see pink, Bagpuss probably looks white and grey to her). If so, it could be that Bagpuss's round, furry, striped back reminds Manda of her mother's round, furry, striped belly. And that would mean that a cuddly animal's ability to remind us of the important times when we were small isn't restricted to humans.
Most of the cuddly animal toys who witnessed important times in my life are long gone -- donated to future generations. And I can't replace them with a bought thing, now. But Father is bringing down one cuddly toy that I remember from my crib days: a big, cuddly hedgehog with a checkerboard-patterened body in shades of grey and brown, and brown yarn "quills" that are dreadlock-like. For most of the last 30 years, Hedgehog has been residing in a high bookshelf in the living room of my old house. And he's a wee bit moth-eaten. But it will sure feel good to hug him again.
I've also been contemplating making a cuddly toy for myself, as a sort of huggable talisman. If I tell it what I remember of my childhood as I'm stitching it up, and sewing in those button eyes, maybe it will be almost as if those eyes witnessed my life all along.
What do you think?
