Day 2.
Mr Bear was my mothers bear. Growing up I always remember him being on her hope chest, patchwork and sweet and always there. A few years ago I became distressed when I visited my little sisters apartment and found Mr Bear there. I was somehow insulted that my mother had given him to my sister. I mentioned it to her, but was never given much of an answer as to why Mr Bear was with my sister.
When I went to visit my parents just before Thanksgiving there was Mr Bear waiting for me. Mom had rescued him from my sister who had left him abandoned in an empty apartment for over a year. She said my sister did not properly appreciate him, so she took him back, patched up some tattered bits, and embroidered a little heart on his chest, and then gave him to me.
I was overjoyed.
I brought him home and was so pleased.
One evening Jessie knocked him to the floor, and when I commented on it, he did not pick him up, not understanding that I wanted him to. I did not realize he had not picked him up. Jessie and Morgan started wrestling, and the dog became upset, and as she does when she is upset she began chewing on the first thing she found, which was Mr Bear.
Morgan was able to save him from the dog before she managed to remove his ear, but the damage was done.
It is nothing that a little loving stitching will not fix.
He is still loved.