My Fuzzy Paradigm

We all see the world through our own lenses. Mine are fuzzy, and not as in unclear, but as in chinchilla!

I love animals.  When I was a child, I loved animals so much I thought I would grow up and live on a farm.

I love all animals, though slithering, scaled reptiles and slimy, bug-eyed amphibians are not at the top of the list.  They can be somewhat cute in their silly strangeness, but they definitely don’t fall into the fuzzy, warm, and snuggly critter family that really has my heart.  

I remember playing with little toy critters when I was a kid. I called them Peewees. I made that name up, but they were fairly common little animal toys made out of soft, colorful pompoms with plastic googly eyes. You could find them in the stationary store near the pens and gum at the register.  There were bears, ducks, caterpillars, birds, cats, lions, dogs, you name it, there was a Peewee of that animal. I had the whole collection of them, and I used to play with them in a doll house.  I remember feeling so much love for those Peewees.  I gave them names, created relationships between them, and had them living their best lives in that doll house.  They were cooking in the kitchen, relaxing by the fire in the living room, and sleeping in tiny beds with blankets.  I remember calling the people in my life whom I loved Peewees too.  My brother was a Peewee, my friends were Peewees, my parents were pretty Peewee-ish too.  I think Peewee became a word to me synonymous with loved-one.

Before, during, and after the Peewee phase, I had an impressive collection of stuffed animals lined up on my bed.  My favorite was Clyde, a basset hound.  He was so soft and silly looking with his long ears. He held court at the head of my bed, right in front of my pillow. I loved my stuffed animals dearly, and I made sure to hug and speak to all of them individually so that none of them would ever feel badly.  That’s another thing about me as a child; I projected feelings onto things, and not just stuffed animals. My parents still remind me today, with a cackle, that I used to cry when my mom cooked Brussel sprouts or meatballs because I thought they were cute, that they had feelings, and that they were being hurt, and worse yet, killed! I know, you are ready to call the people in white coats to carry me off in a net, but the truth is, that this deep affection for the fuzzy and cute was my love language, and still is today!  Most recently, it manifests itself in my book, The Snugbugs, about my very own magical, furry, warm critters, here to circulate my affection and love to parents and their children at bedtime.  I’m hoping that the joy I felt as a child, and the cozy inspiration with which I created these creatures, will take residence in the minds of readers at bedtime, and infuse joy and warm fluff into the world.  Let’s put on those fuzzy rimmed glasses for a new lens on life at bedtime.  Who doesn’t need that?  Who doesn’t need big hugs from The Snugbugs?