Creature Comforts

Sputtering awkwardly, like the first citizen to dare name the emperor’s nudity, the furniture salesperson stumbled a bit as she reported the obvious.

“Do you know…your daughter has… a ribbon…hanging down…?”

A ten-inch satin ribbon was tied to the bow of our seven-year-old daughter Zoe’s eyeglasses. It was the ribbon from her beloved brown stuffed puppy, Woof-Woof.

“Yeah…we know,” my husband and I confirmed.

We completely expect it to be flying from some other accessory or body piercing eleven years from now when we drop her off at college.

 While I was pregnant, Woof Woof—a peanut butter-colored stuffed dog with chocolaty ears and tail—had been a shower gift from a close friend. With the tone women often reserve for cracked nipple advice or post-partum love making, the giver had pulled me aside to school me in the delicate art of nurturing the bond between child and lovey.

“Just take it out of the crib with you when you take the baby out,” she instructed. “Carry it with you wherever go. And for the love of all that’s sacred, don’t wash it!” Knowing full well that I’d never before bowed to the temptation to launder extraneous household items, she added, “That’s why I got you brown.”

Sure enough, before she was able to speak, Zoe had bonded with Woof-Woof. Every night she would sniff herself to sleep, his ribbon collar woven through her chubby little fingers and shoved partially up one nostril. The soothing sedative effect is the whole reason I loved that nasty germy mutt.

Today, hand-stitched scars hint at veterinary procedures ranging from the serious ear reattachment to the added injections of extra stuffing. The tan ribbon once stitched to Woof-Woof's thinning neck still puts my big girl in a Zen-like state of tranquility. This is the whole reason I still love that nasty germy mutt.

By seven years of age Zoe had realized that it was neither practical nor convenient to carry Woof-Woof around through parks and playgrounds and furniture stores. This is why she had ingeniously hung Woof-Woof’s ratty old ribbon from the side of her glasses, leaving her hands free to climb. I, for one, thought it was brilliant. In the event of a sudden comfort emergency that couldn’t be solved by a Lazy Boy, Zoe was prepared.

When we tried to explain ribbon mojo to the tattling salesperson, the woman retorted brusquely with a patronizing comment about childhood fixations.

My husband barked back, “Oh, we ALL do it!”

Isn’t that the truth? As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. Most of us adults are sneakier than my daughter, but we do it. Were we as guileless as Zoe, we’d be walking the streets with an I.V. drip of coffee, vodka, or liquid chocolate hung from our glasses and pumping directly into our veins.

Even though I agreed with him, I was still embarrassed.

My groom demanded of the salesperson, “Do you smoke?”

If she’d said no, I feared he would have badgered her until she broke.  Though she confessed to smoking, I’m still not convinced she really did. I think she just said it to keep him from detailing that longer list of addictions, vices and odd fetishes she and I both knew was coming.

We all have our Woof-Woofs.

Some of us have just learned to be better hiders.

Margot Starbuck is a writer and speaker living in Durham, North Carolina.  Margot's work has most recently appeared in Today's Christian Woman, Fine Homebuilding, and Focus on the Family.  Her first book, The Girl In The Orange Dress: Searching For a Father Who Does Not Fail, with InterVarsity Press, is due out in 2009.  Learn more at www.MargotStarbuck.com.