The Comfort of Stuffed Animals

There are things that bring me comfort in the world: certain people, my pets, photographs, chocolate, chicken and dumplings, a handful of songs, and stuffed animals. I’ve always loved these soft, fuzzy companions.

When I was one or two years old, a stuffed raccoon came into my life—a gift from my Aunt Gloria. I called him, simply, “Raccoon.” For over two decades, he was my go-to companion. Night after night, I fell asleep with him tucked in the crook of my arm, and over the years, I literally loved the fur right off him. He became threadbare in spots, worn smooth by thousands of nights of being held close. Raccoon was my best friend, and I shared many secrets with him and cried many tears onto his loving masked face. He was lost during one of our moves in the 1990s, after my husband Gene and I married and began our lives together. And even though Gene kind of took his place, I’ve always wondered where Raccoon ended up. I still miss him.

When my childhood girlfriends were carrying around Barbies and baby dolls, I preferred the comfort and company of stuffed animals. When I was four, I sometimes gathered my stuffed companions underneath the dining room table and pretended we were in school. I was the teacher, and they were my eager students. I taught them all to read and do simple math, and I must say, they were excellent pupils. They never talked back or forgot their homework. They were kind and respectful and went on to do great things.

Our nephew Alex had a stuffed animal named Brown Bear that showed him how to poop in the big boy toilet when we were potty training him. Our niece Savannah had a pink-and-white companion named Puffy. When our great-nephew Liam was born last June, we gave him a stuffed elephant with flapping ears that occasionally says, “Peek-a-boo!” We hope he loves it for a long time.

These days, I see a similar love for stuffed animals in our dog. We keep a collection of fuzzy toys in a basket near our fireplace—creatures that squeak, grunt, moo, and crow like roosters—and our dog adores them all. She carries them around like treasures, squeaking them with pride and occasionally attacking our feet with one clenched in her pouchlike mouth.

But the most touching stuffed animal story in our house involves a male golden retriever named Zot. He chose to live here with us one day and simply moved in without discussion (some dogs adopt you that way). continued from page

When we offered him a stuffed toy, he just stared at us, confused. We squeaked it in front of his face, waved it around, trying to show him how much fun it could be. He watched us with curiosity, but we couldn’t get through to him that we were giving him something. It broke our hearts a little to realize that he’d never had a toy before.

We almost gave up, leaving the toys and bones where he could find them.

Then, after a few weeks, Zot picked up one of the stuffed animals and gave it a little squeak. Then another. Then he brought it to us and invited us to play with him. It was beautiful watching him discover play. Zot went on to become one of the best dogs we’ve ever had, and I like to think those stuffed animals played a small part in welcoming him into our family and home, a place where he was safe and loved until his very last breath. Whether you’re a child sleeping with your stuffed animal or gathering your stuffed students under the dining room table for a lesson, or a dog learning for the first time that a plush toy can be yours, stuffed animals offer comfort and companionship. They ask nothing of us except to be held, and sometimes, that’s really all we need.

Saylor Ledford

BOOST GRANT – Rural Roots Beauty Bar received a Boost Grant from the Lyons Main Street Association to help alleviate some of the costs of renovating their location. L to R: Lyons Mayor Willis NeSmith Jr., Cecilia Ramirez, Alyssa Willis, Casey Williams, Jennifer Brown, Jamie Elizabeth, Lyons Community Development Director Jessica Barfield, Lyons City Manager Jason Hall.