The Horror: Fluffy, Is That You?

As a spritely ten-year-old, I carried a plushie Persian cat with me everywhere. Her name was Angel. She went with me to church, to restaurants, on vacation. She's even in one of our family photos, which, to my continuing embarrassment, my parents still think is adorable. I'm not even a cat person, so I have no idea why I did this aside from the fact that I was a rather strange, lonely child.

This calico vest did not make the cut in my furry vest post last week because it reminds me of nothing so much as a plush cat that some awkward little girl somewhere loved to an unhealthy degree. Sadly, this child lost her friend when mom suspected it had mange and sold its pelt to Forever 21.


becca said…
This vest reminds me of a stuffed raccoon hand puppet I had (still have if I'm being honest) as a kid. It was creatively named Rocky. I used to bug my dad to let the puppet help him drive (my dad thought this was cute and played along).

This vest also seems to prompt people so share embarrassing, stuffed-toy-related childhood stories, which might make owning it kind of interesting.
Jael Paris said…
I'm going to ask you dad about that too.

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