Fuzzy

When I was five or six, my grandfather had a stroke while he was visiting Germany. My dad went there to help bring him back. Pretty much as soon as he got home, I asked him what he brought me. Grown up me cringes at how insensitive that seems even if it would be a pretty normal reaction for someone that old. Fortunately, he did bring me something. A stuffed lion named Snuffy. It's mostly yellow with a brown mane and is probably the one thing from my childhood that I'm most attached to. For the most part, he sits on a bookshelf in my house, but he did move to my bedroom to keep me company when my dad had his stroke eleven years ago. Snuffy is a bit worn down and dirty these days, but still priceless to me.