Was it fate or fete?
My tale isn’t actually as straightforward as loved and lost… mine is more along the lines of ‘loved, lost, cried and found again! I’ll explain…

When I was a wee flim-flam I grew up on a RAF base. My father was in the forces and therefore not around the house too much, more flying around the world with guns and ammo (that sort of stuff). Every now and then he would go away for a few months on training exercises but, I didn’t miss him too much growing up, mainly because there was fun to be had running around on a base. However, just like clockwork my dad’s guilt would set in and on his return we would go on a family trip to Toys “R” Us!! On this trip I found what would be the bane of my mothers life and my long-time furry companion!

His name was Fuzzy Bear (note the capital letters) and he sounded like he was full of empty crisp packets when you squeezed him. His arms were half the length of his legs and his head was three times the size of his body, but I loved him, I loved him like he was my fuzzy blue bear brother and he went EVERYWHERE WITH ME!!

I suppose my mum had no ill feelings towards Fuzzy Bear to start with, he was clean and didn’t smell of mould and stuff found in a vacuum cleaner bag! Sadly over time Fuzzy did start to stink up the place, he was no longer a bright baby blue, he was more dingy grey/blue and his crunchy sound had diminished and his eyes had gone sort of bulbous (probably from all the huggles I gave him)… but I still loved him because he was mine!

I shouldn’t paint my mother out to be a villain (even though she used to stop us building snowmen in the garden because walking on the snow killed the grass underneath!?!) because she did try to de-stink Fuzzy Bear. Unfortunately he could not be washed as the material inside him was weird and he wouldn’t dry properly so my mother did a sneaky thing and put him in a bag to give to a charity shop. I think she was banking on my exceedingly short attention span… which didn’t work as I noticed pretty quickly that Fuzzy Bear had gone and proceeded to GO NUTS! I cried, I kicked, I screamed but she wouldn’t give Fuzzy back to me or tell me what had happened to him. If only I had looked in her wardrobe I would have found him in a bin bag waiting to meet his fuzzy end.

About two weeks after Fuzzy Bear went missing my school had a fete. My mother thought this was a perfect opportunity to get rid of Fuzzy Bear and a ton of my brother’s naff toys so she took the bag out of her wardrobe and gave it to my school to use as raffle prizes. Little did she know my father would take me to that same fete… where, after only two goes, I was reunited with Fuzzy Bear!! It was fate… or fete (excuse the pun) and my mother couldn’t mess with that! She let me keep Fuzzy so long as I tried not to take him everywhere and also tried not to let him get anymore stinky!

So yes, I still have Fuzzy Bear to this day, and with a little help from Febreeze he’s good as new!
(Flim-Flam the Magnificent "You is talking loco and I like it!", Mon 18 Aug 2008, 16:58, 1 reply)

Hehehe
That's my girl! :)

*clicks*
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Mon 18 Aug 2008, 17:00, closed)