When I was super young, probably around 1 or 2, my parents bought me a stuffed tiger at a store similar to Build-a-Bear in Gatlinburg. I loved him from the moment they gave him to me. I named him Wildcat after my mom's high school mascot, and he went everywhere with me. I couldn't sleep without him, even when we went on vacations or I spent the night with friends. Something about having him there made me feel safe and comforted.
As I grew older, I did eventually get to where I could sleep without Wildcat if I had to. I stopped taking him everywhere, and he became a resident at the head of my bed anytime I wasn't home. However, the feeling of comfort that I got from having him near never really went away. It still hasn't. At this point, I've had him for so long that he feels like more of a friend than a toy.
When I was packing up my things to move into my college dorm, I contemplated for a long time about whether or not Wildcat would be coming to Jacksonville with me. He's so old now that he looks dirty even when he isn't, he isn't as fluffy as he used to be, and he's just overall not very appealing to look at by anyone who isn't me. The fact that I still sleep with him is also seen as childish to a lot of people, no matter how I try to explain it to them.
Up until the night before I was set to move into my dorm, I had decided to leave him at home. I figured it would just be easier, and perhaps overall less embarrassing that way. However, at the last second, I decided to bring him with me. The truth is, Wildcat has literally been through everything with me.
Yeah, he caught my tears when I was a kid and upset because I got in trouble or didn't get my way, but he also caught them when I went through my first big fight with my best friend when I was 15. He was there for me through the deaths of my grandfather and my great grandmother. He comforted me the night I went through my first serious breakup. The rational side of me knows that Wildcat is nothing more than an inanimate object, a child's toy. But that doesn't take away his sentimental value or the fact that having him around when I'm upset or I can't sleep just calms me down.
So yes. I am 19 years old, and I still sleep with a stuffed animal. Maybe one day, I'll pass him on to my own kids. But for now, he's mine, and I love him. You won't catch me getting rid of him anytime soon.
