jml297

When she thought back to her childhood, it was Fred who came first to her mind. Fred mainly lived on the foot of her bed, though there were times when sleep would not come unless she was able to snuggle her face into his plush neck. Her fingers would curl around his long ears, the silky fabric like a balm.

For as long as Jemma remembered, she had wanted a dog. Each birthday and Christmas had been an opportunity to remind her parents that this was all that she needed. Not toys, not clothes, not another brother or sister, just a dog. These requests were usually met with promises that when she was older, or when they moved to a new home with more space, a dog might be a possibility. But meanwhile, there was Fred.

Jemma couldn’t recall just when Fred had appeared in her life. He was a basset hound and had a long body with a tail that moved if she danced with him. Her mum said that when Fred arrived, he was longer than Jemma, but this didn’t stop Jemma from carting him with her wherever she went. Fred was versatile. He would listen to Jemma without complaint, and was frequently engaged as one of the children when she pretended to be a teacher. When watching tele, Fred would be curled up beside her or sometimes used as a pillow. He never complained, and though he became a bit careworn around the edges, he was a constant companion.

When she was sad, or confused, Jemma would retreat to her room with Fred, curling up beside him and whispering into his soft, frayed ears. Fred would somehow help her to understand what was going on around her, or make things a bit less scary. Each night, she would kiss his black felt nose and hug him tight before closing her eyes. As long as Fred was nearby, everything would be all right.

Occasionally, Jemma would find that Fred had gone AWOL. Usually, it was one of her siblings teasing her. Once, he had been stashed away in a cardboard box with other toys that were to be put into storage, or given away. Jemma had cried until she was reunited with Fred. He was bent out of shape from being pinned under old toy trucks and dolls, and one of his silky ears was almost ripped off. Jemma’s grandmother had helped her to sew it back on, and they used bright purple thread, which only made Jemma cherish him more.

When Jemma left home, there wasn’t much that she took with her. Fred had gone missing permanently one long summer when she was visiting family interstate, and she had mourned his loss but always carried his kind, calm presence in her heart.

This piece was written to a prompt on the Writer’s Digest website. Our Velveteen: write a story based on a quote from the childhood classic The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams.

”Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand. “

Photo: a glimpse of the stuffed toy roof in display called #OTT by Freya Jobbins, spotted at a Sculpture at Scenic World display