I didn’t plan on keeping him long. We have enough stuffed animals in the house as is (DAN'S, NOT MINE! DAN'S!!), and I never trust carny stuffed animals anyway; I always figure they’re stuffed with either toxic Styrofoam or cocaine.
But for whatever reason, he stuck around. He reminded me of Moo-Moo, my sister’s stuffed cow from when she was little, so the nostalgia factor was high. Also, he was very squishy.
Now that we’re moving, however, I’ve been making efforts to get rid of him. I put him out at our recent yard sale, but no one bought him. I threw him away briefly, but then I decided that you should never throw out a smiling object, so I pulled him back out. I considered giving him to one of the little kids who just moved in next door, but there are like 15 of them, and they all shriek and cry and break things all day long; they don’t deserve a stuffed cow, in my opinion.
So the cow’s still hanging around. In the next day or two I will have to decide if I am attached enough to pack him. To aid in that decision, I slept with him last night. He was so very squishy! And I slept very well indeed.
My name is Meaghan, and I am 32 years old.