Guppy the Puppy

Every anniversary Joey buys me a Build-A-Bear.  (Their stock is listed as one to watch, according to CNBC; just an FYI.)  This tradition began on our honeymoon.  We were on Navy Pier in Chicago and happened by a Build-A-Bear store.  Joey steered me in and said, "Pick one." 

I picked out a velvety, cuddly bear and named him Pierre le Bear.  (There were two reasons for this.  One, Pierre rhymed with Bear and two, Pierre and Pier sounded a lot a like and we got him at Navy Pier.)

Subsequent Build-A-Bear purchases have been Habit the Rabbit (for our 1st anniversary) and Guppy the Puppy (2nd anniversary). Habit the Rabbit kind of went over like a lead balloon because he had these long ears that had wires in them.  He's currently stuffed in between the shelf and hanger rod in our closet, poking his head out to stare at Joey's shirts, along with my cow Daisy.  (I look at them as Closet Ambience.)

Pierre and Guppy, however, are sitting on our bed.

Perhaps it is not prudent to admit this on the Internet, but I slept with my blanket up until the time that Joey and I got engaged.  (I tried giving it up, I really did, but after 22 years it's a little bit of a challenge.)  I forced myself to put it in my baby box the day I got my engagement ring.  It was a sad time.

This is the main reason that Joey bought Pierre le Bear for me.  He felt sorry for me and my separation from Blankie, and he felt mainly responsible.  (He was, actually.)

And so I slept with Pierre le Bear for two years, until he bought me Guppy the Puppy this year.  I changed over to Guppy the Puppy because he's softer, slightly cuter, and more of a novelty since he's newer.

Last night I was almost asleep when Joey said, "You have Guppy, right?"

"Yeah..." I mumbled.

"Good.  Because I don't want to get beat up in the middle of the night if you discover you don't have him and you think I do."

That woke me up.  "What?"

"Yeah," he said, "you've been waking up in the middle of the night, saying 'give me back the dog!' and then punching me.  So then I find it and give it back to you."

"I do not either do that."  I said; I was awake now.

"Yes, you do.  Quite often."  Joey replied.

"Oh.  Well, you shouldn't let me do that!" I exclaimed, "It's really bad!"

"You're asleep."  Joey said.  "I don't know what to do except get you the dog.  You keep hitting me..." He sort of trailed off.

So I'm not really sure what to do about this one. It looks like I may need to go to Stuffed Dog Detox or something like that, because I appear to be disturbingly addicted to my stuffed animal.  (Pops always called those "dolls" when we were kids and that always bothered me.  A stuffed animal is not a doll, it is a stuffed animal.  Dolls look like smallish people and wear clothes.)

If anyone has any suggestions, I'm sure that Joey would appreciate them.  Poor guy, getting punched out in his sleep because I think he's stolen my stuffed dog.

I definitely have issues.