Canine comfort

I written before about my fear of dogs (particularly the Big Black variety) and it's a real fear... but I realised today that I've never told you about my dog Fred.

Fred came into my life on my fifth birthday as a gift from one of my brothers. At the time I was only a little bit bigger than Fred, but I wasn't afraid of him. I couldn't be afraid... Fred looked like this:

In truth, even as a child I was never really one for stuffed toys or dolls. I would much rather have read a book than played with a toy or doll (although I am still jealous of my friend Vicky who had the most amazingly wonderful doll house I've ever seen in my life). With Fred, it was different. I loved him. I still don't really know why - being so long and kind of flat he wasn't cuddly like a teddy bear. He wasn't cute. I always thought his expression was rather sad, actually, and there were times when I made up tragic stories to account for why he looked so sad and serious. Nevertheless, I just loved him. I didn't carry him around... in fact I'm not sure he ever left my bedroom except for the time I made a train out of cardboard boxes and took him for a ride around the dining room... but I slept with him for years. He heard all my secrets, all my joys, all my sorrows. He was soaked with my tears more times than I care to count. When I was angry and frustrated I threw him across the room and told him I hated him, but he always forgave me. He's that kind of dog.

When I grew too old to sleep with a stuffed toy he was demoted to the end of my bed. He kept my feet warm in winter and kept guard in my bedroom when I wasn't there. My other toys were put away, thrown out, given away or forgotten, but not Fred.

Today he lives on a shelf in the wardrobe in my spare room. He is filthy and has a couple of holes that leak stuffing if he's handled too roughly. I'm afraid to wash him in case it finishes him off. I don't bring him out of the wardrobe. I don't think about him at all, really. Today I mentioned him to someone and it prompted me to drag him out and have a look at him - and I remembered what a comfort he was to me when I was a child.

So thank you, Fred. You're a smelly, mangy old thing but you got me through some hard times and I don't think I could have done it without you.

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