I'm not an equal-opportunity stuffie lover. I'm just not. Stuffies that are too small, too real-looking (not cartoonish enough), or simply not cute enough don't cut it. I cut them loose and do not adopt them as one of my own. And I don't feel bad about it...
...until someone makes me feel bad about it.
See this tiny pipsqueaky penguin with haunted eyes, who is (at Mr. Squire's behest) sitting triumphantly atop Camel, Sleepy Sheepy, Furberry, and Turtle? During our spring cleaning last weekend, I decided that this little penguin had outstayed his welcome at our apartment. Time to go, buddy.
But then... Mr. Squire insisted on keeping him, and insisted on having the pipsqueak penguin call me "Mommy." Of course, I don't give any unadopted animals any names (they aren't owned until they're named!) so I challenged Mr. Squire on that front. And that's when Mr. Squire announced, "But he does have a name. His name is...Instigator. Penguin Instigator. P.I. You can call him 'Pi.'"
Sigh.
I can't get rid of little Pi. Every night, he comes up and asks to sleep on the bed. I shoo him away, then feel guilty because...the little guy has a name now. You can't just turn him away! But...grrr...not my kind of stuffie! Penguin Instigator indeed.
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