Parting ways with my 101 dalma-plushies

Sitting (or maybe swimming) next to the bunny trifecta, “Flippy” the rainbow fish has not paid rent after more than four years living in my bookshelf.

For years I have insisted on the unbreakable emotional connection I have with each one of my stuffed animals, but it’s time to let go and give them away.

Just recently, I was cleaning all the junk under my bed. While having a sneezing fit from all the dust, I found my best friend from my prepubescent days: Bunny.

Bunny hopped into my life just as all other plushies I happily received from my piano teacher when I took lessons from age 6 to 13. Every lesson, to her discretion, my teacher would reward her students for doing well in class with our choice of plushies, stickers, erasers or color-changing pencils from her big bag of goodies — and my first choice was always the plushies.

Thinking about the stuffed animals was the light at the end of a dark tunnel. It helped me get through two hours of playing the piano non-stop as I held back my tears, looking forward to eagerly scurrying through all the plushies and opening the little heart-cards that detailed their names, birthdays and quirks.

I would make my final decision on which one to take home by staring into their eyes and then taking them home like a hard-earned trophy for the weekly lessons, all the while pitying the next poor student whose parents paid for them to play pain-o in the lion’s den.

To clarify, I did actually enjoy piano, and I eventually became friends with my teacher: I just used to be scared witless of my teacher yelling at me for not being able to sight read, stumbling over the same phrase over and over again or just crying too much and not being able to see the piano score.

This continued through middle school and by the end, I had accumulated so many plushies in my room that I couldn’t leave my room without tripping over a few. There were plushies stacked on the shelves, lounging on my bed, hanging on to the curtains, sleeping on the floor and a select few dwelling under the bed — so I decided it was time to do a roll call and get them all orderly.

One eternity later, I finally gathered all my 101 plushies. My parents pleaded that I give a few away, but I insisted: They’re like my children! Could you give ME away just because you tripped on me a few times?

But as time went on, I also realized plushies make great last-minute birthday presents! I was getting busier and busier, and I also got a real-life plushie (my cat), so I turned a new page in my plushie journey.

I’ve started giving away plushies more often, so if I happen to give you a fluffy little companion for your birthday, know that I’m not just relieving my stock of plushies; I’m giving away a piece of me, a piece of my childhood, just for you.