It wasn't quite what I meant when I told my parents that I wanted a dog, but I was content. A stuffed dog was still furry enough to be a friend, even if it couldn't move on its own. My sisters and I went to the workshop super excited. My sister loved monkeys and pandas and was ready to spend all her hard earned seventy-seven cents on getting one.
We eventually arrived at the store and I was in awe at all the options. There was every kind of animal there, all the kinds I'd read about in picture books and more. It was a playground for an eight year old. Of course, I was there with a purpose. I wasn't a plebeian who got carried away with impulses; I had a purpose for going there and I was determined to accomplish it.
Waddling over from the entrance to where they stocked the deflated dogs was the most horrifying walk of my life. On display, everything was inflated, stuffed, and happy. These things were crammed into boxes and sad shells of their true potential. It was almost like a look into my future.
Anyway, I picked up the deflated dog and cried for it. I wanted to put it out of its misery. Gently picking it up, I carried it over to my parents and asked if I could pay the $25 and put it out of its misery. They agreed, so we went to go stuff it and give it life.
Apparently, they were supposed to put a heart in it before adding the stuffing. They forgot.
I was heartbroken for myself and for my dog. I couldn't stomach living with a zombie dog. I elbowed my dad and asked if they could redo it. He had an eye on the dog and noticed that it wasn't fully sewed together yet. He reached for a heart and asked if they could operate on my dog and put it in. Luckily, it didn't (you need an account to see links) to fix this problem. I had a dog with a heart, finally.
After getting the dog, they want you to buy some clothes for it. Obviously this is the main attractor of the store and I didn't want to buy in. I wanted my dog as natural and realistic as it could be.
I found out later that year that people actually do dress up their dogs.
Anyway, why am I telling you all this?
Because of a recent occurrence. My oldest sister, now working, stumbled across a Build-a-Bear Workshop a while back. She wanted their new limited-edition Pikachu after catching a glimpse of it in the display mirror, but later decided on a much better use of money. She bought a Chicago Bears sweatshirt for my dog. I'm a grown man now and the dog is long gone in the Narnia of my closet, and I was taken abark that she even remembered I had it. Moments later, I had to contemplate my life. Here I was, a grown man, dressing a stuffed animal I got nine years prior. It was a nice revisit to my childhood and reminded me to appreciate my toys and childhood friends. It still remains the best Christmas gift I've received this year.
And, of course, the moment you've all been waiting for. Lil Brownie with a Bears hoodie on. :')
I've been tempted to walk into the build a bear workshop in my mall. Feels real sketchy to go in there alone with all those kids. I need to drag a little cousin in there or something.