Something akin to a bear slasher movie

I was thinking last night about what would/will happen the day something befalls the LGBB's prize toy - a stoned-looking pup named Marley (after Bob, of course) - if it happens before I can hunt down a back-up Marley. Kind of like when Peter Brady used his "twin" as a stand-in so he can date two girls on the one night, it will be a lesson in morals I'm sure.

I recalled the time when, as a child, my teddy had to go to the teddy hospital. I pictured a hospital with teddies and their legs in plaster, laying back on hospital beds with gauze wrapped round their fuzzy teddy heads and sipping water brought in by teddy nurses. In reality, it was probably some guy's garage.

I think Parby (hey, I couldn't say Pooh Bear, orright?) had lost an eye, or was seriously close to it. I was distraught, I remember that. And mum arranged for him to go to hospital and he was there for what seemed like months. Again, in reality, what's the bet it was just the time in between being picked up from school and picking him up... no it was longer than that. But it felt like an eternity.

We dropped Parby off and I said a teary farewell. Probably waved a white hanky as his train left the station and all that. And then I waited. What news of Parby? What of his eye? I think I must have nagged mum to within an inch of her tolerance about when he was coming home (from the wars).

And then the day arrived. A thick white package arrived. Oh the indignities.

"GET HIM OUT OF THERE, he probably can't breeeeathe!" I was desperate for her to cut the bag open and rescue my dear bear.

She took the "good" scissors and cut. Right before my eyes, I witnessed something a child never wants to ever see. Stuffing. Piles and piles of stuffing oozing out of the white tough-bag. I shrieked. I was horrified. Mum had gutted Parby on the kitchen bench. I think I swooned and smelling salts may have been involved.

Turns out, what mum was digging her hands through (had she sterilised, was she wearing a gown and mask, is what I want to know) was not the entrails of my beloved Parby, but the stuffing his "doctor" had used to pad the bag and keep him safe on his trip. Must have been like being back inside his mother's womb, all woolly and stuffingy and warm like that. Bwahaha.

I still have that bear today. I still cannot have him dishevelled or sitting uncomfortably. He was my first true love.

And if that dog Marley knows what's good for him, he'll keep out of mischief and keep himself good and clean. At least until I can find his doppelganger.