My Purple Dog(Len Daniels) My Purple Dog

I can't say with any kind of certainty when this story really started, but I'm told by my parents that my twin sister and I were about six months old when it all came about. My parents decided that it was about time we started to show some interest in something other than our own fingers, so they presented us each with a stuffed animal. A yellow duck for my sister and a purple dog for me. I guess this was the first sign that we were encouraged to develop our own individuality. They weren't very big, only about 12 inches high, but they seemed gigantic to us.

In the years following, we played with those toys every day and would take them to bed with us at night and for our afternoon naps, we so enjoyed them. We would take them with us whenever we went outside to play or whenever we went visiting. We would pretend they were real animals and that they would answer us when we talked to them. They became our friends and security blankets when we were sick or not feeling well. Somehow we would always feel better when they were within eyesight. My sister was the only thing closer to me while we were growing up. When I got the measles and ran a high fever and my sister had to be isolated from me, who was there to comfort me ---- purple dog. When I fell off my tricycle and bruised my knee, who kissed it and made it all better, again ---- purple dog.

There was a time when I was about five and feared that I'd lost him, but after searching for hours we found him where he had fallen under the seat in the car. I must have loosened my grip on him while riding and dozed off. I was quite scared since I knew that I wouldn't be able to go to sleep that night without him. After that, my daddy made a little leash for him so I would never go through that fear again. It worked so well that in time, all his original fur covering wore off and he developed wear spots at the ends of his legs where the stuffing started to come out. My grand mom had to sew new pieces of purple fabric on them to stop it. Many such "operations" as my daddy called them, have been performed on my purple dog, 'til it doesn't even resemble the little stuffed toy I've come to love and cherish. It had to be repaired several times after my grand mom passed away. My mom and I tried but could never quite get it looking like my grand mom could. We had trouble matching the color so that it almost looks like a calico cat, but it still is ---- my purple dog.

When I got married, my new husband was surprised to find that I had packed him in my little honeymoon suitcase and asked me, "what's that?" I answered, "my purple dog, I don't go to bed without him." He countered, "It doesn't even look like a dog" and I said, "I know, but it did at one time but he's been through a lot." The following day I told my husband the story up ‘til then, about my purple dog, which made both of us feel better. He accepted the fact that my purple dog goes where I go. I love him for this.

My sister has long given up her yellow duck and doesn't have such trivial attachments, but she's very happy.

When I was enduring the challenges of my first pregnancy and feeling pretty bad and alone, who was there ---- purple dog, so I wasn't really alone. He came with me into the delivery room and was there for the birth of my first daughter. She herself has since developed an attachment for things purple, in fact her favorite color is purple. I've since given birth twice more, and purple dog has been there each time, however, these children don't share the same fetish.

My sister and I are now 46 years old and although we are still close, she has her family in North Carolina and I have mine here in New Jersey and we only see each other occasionally. The subject of the purple dog has stirred up many a conversation within our family, but I will always love my lifelong friend, my comforter, my talisman ---- my purple dog.

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