Tigger

When I was a small boy, I had a stuffed Tigger. I carried him everywhere and talked mostly only to him. We lived in the country and I was the oldest boy so adventuring around with my younger siblings was not appropriate, to me at least. They couldn't be as bold as I was because I was older.

Tigger and I would climb the tall pines in the sideyard or go out to the barn where the horses and cows were. Incredible dangers lurked in barns and pine trees when I was young. In fact, there was no where that was very safe.

You see, when I was little there were bad things in all sorts of places. Evil forces plotted against me alone and only I could overcome them. If I found a spent shotgun shell in the cornfield, it was obviously a failed attempt on my life. I was quite important as a young boy. To this day I do not know why for sure, but back then I had a few theories.

It was entirely possible I had been kidnapped by aliens and was being studied in an artificial environment I only perceived to be reality. Or maybe I wasn't human at all but a growing robot with living tissue over all my metal limbs and chassis. It could have even been both, or maybe something I had yet to understand. In any case, I was important.

Being this important, I needed protection and companionship. Tigger was always there. In the barn, Tigger lost an eye to a rusty nail, meant for my heart, no doubt. In the pine trees he lost an arm then we fell. He saved me by breaking my fall, brave little Tigger. Tigger even lost his bouncing tail in an accident I don't remember.

Every time Tigger was injured, my mother would take him for an hour or two and he would come back a little worse for wear but always in tact. He had huge stitches over most of his body from the rescues he had affected for me.

One day, when Tigger had suffered a particularly nasty injury, I took him to my mother. She said she would fix him. A few days went by and he still hadn't returned. We were in the process of moving from our old house to a new one. I asked about him and my mother said he wasn't fixed yet. I told her I needed him back as soon as possible and she said she would see what she could do.

I never saw Tigger again. The attempts on my life stopped shortly thereafter and I seemed to lose my importance to whoever it was I had been so important to. My life's gone quite far from the farm in Michigan where Tigger and I had our adventures. I still remember the sacrifices he made for me. I still miss him. And every now and then, I still wait for him to come back.

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