The eyes of the unseeing

In the corner of the room, nestled on one of the walls where the window sits, a bed is placed. A variety of stuffed plush toys, varying in sizes, and styles, can be found on top of the mattress. However, there is this one particular stuffed toy that stands out. It is a rugged Mickey Mouse plush with the only indicator that it is who it is, is the red shorts and yellow shoes that the cartoon character is famous for. The rest, however, are either tattered fabric or open stitches. Nonetheless it is something that is definitely valued.

When I was young, I was given this plush toy after my older one got doomed from the harsh cleaning treatment he received, a.k.a the washing machine. I remembered seeing him at the clearance bin at a local toy store, and being a literal child back then, I asked my parents to buy him for me. Usually, they would’ve said no, but seeing that I really wanted it, it was cheap, and my older best friend had to be put to rest, they bought it; not knowing the regret it would entail years in the future. Nonetheless, I was ecstatic then, and that’s all that matters.

We were inseparable, Mickey and I. Wherever I go, he goes; unless its school, and whatever I do, he does it with me; unless its work. This went on for several years, and it’s safe to say, albeit a little shameful to say, until the present. He’s a presence who helps in keeping my feet on the ground while my head’s in the clouds. He was and is still my best friend.

It wasn’t until I entered high school that my family gained a dog. I used to have lots growing up, but they were put to rest due to either old age, or incurable diseases. It was also this time that I was beginning to be more aware of the burden of the thing we call “the future”. It was the period where the daily was swamped with various house chores, and school works, and projects. Naturally, I began to neglect him.

One day after school, as I was taking a nap in the living room, my dog, which was a dachshund, and my brother, who is significantly younger than I am, just got back from their walk. I don’t really have any idea what happened during that time, as I was sleeping, but I do remember waking up from my brother’s and my mom’s screech as they chase around the dog, who had my plush toy in his mouth. As I was quite tired from the day’s affair, and disoriented from my sleep, I didn’t immediately notice that he was in my dog’s mouth. It wasn’t until my brother handed me my plush with its forehead open and the polyfill gushing out that it really was him in my dog’s mouth. Too late to cry over spilled milk, I spent the remaining time stitching his open wounds, and just heartlessly left him there until it was time to retire for the night. This was the first damage of the many he has now.

The second was done by my dog once again, but this time with the participation of another, a young corgi. After the previous incident, I made sure that I put my plush where my dog can’t possibly reach him, also banning him from my room, in the process. However, as I came home from school, I see my dog, once again, wreaking havoc. He was with my aunt’s dog, and they were arguing over something that I can’t see, but once I came near, it was again, my plush toy. I don’t know how they managed to get a hold of him, but, I took it away from their mouths, despite the heavy bag I was carrying. This time, his entire back stitching and neck came undone. Again, I spent my time mending him, and gave him a bath. I waited for him to dry, then place him again at his spot in my room.

The last and probably reason why he got so tattered was due to the cleaning treatments he keeps on receiving. Every time I would wash him, it would always be done by hand as I didn’t want him to have the same fate as his older brother had. However, as I was nearing to finishing high school, and applying to colleges, I entrusted the cleaning to my mom, who was either using an abrasive brush to clean him, or just chucking him in the washing machine, By this point in time, I just didn’t care. I still tend to his open stitches, but beyond that I didn’t pay any attention anymore. Maybe it was the stress of trying to pass multiple subjects, the blues of actually not knowing what path to take, or just being disinterested in general. Nonetheless, it felt like I abandoned him.

It has been a few years since those incidents occurred, but along the way, I managed to rekindle my relationship with him. I mended some of his minor damages to prevent it from worsening. In this time, I also made a few adjustments to my views and how I live my life. It isn’t perfect, and I am still learning, but I believe that what I’ve chosen would be beneficial to my growth. In the near future when the pandemic is done, I’m planning to send him to an experienced tailor to be fixed but for now, I’ll do the best I can do to prolong his life.