Teddy-Dog A story by Robin He came into my life the Christmas after I was born. So long ago that no one can remember who actually gave him to me. A light tan, he was in the shape of a teddy bear even though he was actually a member of the canine species. Arriving before I had the ability to speak he has no permanent name though he has gone through many in his twenty-three years of existence. For now he is simply known as Teddy-Dog. He was put through many tortures, as any stuffed friend of a small child is; Swaddled like a baby; Thrown as a football; Dropped off a porch to test a home made parachute. A few split seams, torn ears and matted fur was the price he paid for being my only companion (aside from my older brother) throughout the joy of my childhood. Always ready to play. Never complaining. (Though the loss of his mouth somewhere along the way probably had something to do with the latter.) Ignored for awhile he still was there for me as I became a teenager. Subjected to my practice kisses (Him playing the roll of the cute boy of the week). Witnessing my first real one. Cuddled with and cried upon when my father and brother died. Crushed underneath me as I was raped repeatedly by a lover and his friends. Bled upon as I was beaten time after time by man after man. Always he was there. Hugging me when it was over. Calming me and stifling my cries with his ears (I still can taste the cottony feel of them as I shoved them into my mouth and bit down) Ignored for awhile he still was there for me as I became a teenager. Subjected to my practice kisses (Him playing the roll of the cute boy of the week). Witnessing my first real one. Cuddled with and cried upon when my father and brother died. Crushed underneath me as I was raped repeatedly by a lover and his friends. Bled upon as I was beaten time after time by man after man. Always he was there. Hugging me when it was over. Calming me and stifling my cries with his ears (I still can taste the cottony feel of them as I shoved them into my mouth and bit down) Then it happened. Twenty-one we were. Junk free for a month and living with a boyfriend. Trying to make it straight and normal in a world we were unaccustomed to. Uncontrollable anger was his downfall. He got ripped to shreds. His head torn off, an arm missing, his Day-Glo biohazard orange stuffing strewn around a room. The reason? The boyfriend at the time telling me I should just get over it, and maybe I was indulging in my pain. So I did. I indulged in my anger and tore my life long friend apart. It was either him or me.... I hoped he understood. Slowly he was gathered up(He spent some time in a ziplock bag in the freezer so I wouldn't have to face him) and sewn back together. My incapable hands trying to restore life to this creature that so often saved mine. In the end his head was in place, ears restored but he suffered permanent damage to the arm. Now it looks like it is in a constant body cast. A friend confiscated him for safe keeping when it looked like he would be attacked again. Promised to give him back when everything was all right again...He tried to this past summer. Picked up Teddy-Dog and said, "Here, I think this is yours". I looked at him, this scraggily stuffed animal. An inanimate object, nothing but some 23 year old pieces of stained material and quietly began to sob. The first time I have done so in about five years. I wish with all my heart that I could reclaim this piece of my past, but I cannot. Everytime I even glance in his direction I cry. He got all his strength up - And the dragons boomed in the dark. So I am teddybearless tonight and cannot think of a sadder thing. But odd as it is I think sometimes that I am here because of having loved that ragged piece of cloth... -Robin-