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| Baby |
Baby, if you recall, is one of the only two toys that have survived since I was a little puppy (Nuclear Bunny is the other). When I first got Baby, I immediately started to personalize her to my specifications (as I do with all toys). First, the squeaker box went (originally, she would bark three times every time I bit down on her), then I ripped off both of her ears, and finally I turned my attention to her upper lip. After each amputation or mutation, Sister would replace Baby's stuffing and sew her back together (Baby's nose was a victim of the surgery on her upper lip). Then one day, about five years ago, I came to the conclusion that Baby was finally perfect; I didn't need to do any more personalizing. From that day forward, I stopped ripping her apart. In fact, she became one of my go to meet-and-greet toys (she's big enough for people to notice that I'm greeting them at the door with her yet she's small enough to make it impossible for someone to try and grab hold of her thinking that I'm giving her to them).
But then, two weeks ago, something happened. Suddenly I started ripping at the stitches on Baby's nose. Three times Baby was taken away from me for emergency surgery and each time I got her back, I picked up exactly where I left off.
What happened between Baby and me? What made our relationship go sour? Pa thinks Baby said something to me. Sister thinks that Baby looked at me funny. Ma thinks I'm just being my "charming self" (I'm thinking I should be offended by that).
So? What happened?
I'm not going to say. This conflict is between Baby and me.
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