Orientation

I heard a squeak from the ‘delivery room’ and put down my book, pushing off the arms of my rocking chair to launch into a shuffling run. In the next room I reached over to raise the lights slowly and murmured to the brand new plushie sitting up in their cardboard box, staring at their fingerless paws.

“Ooh, what an adorable little lion. You’re going to make someone so happy.” I spoke softly, advancing with slow steps towards the box, giving them time to notice and accept me. I was nearly always quite a bit bigger than my new arrivals, a towering four foot seven, so I could reach important shelves.

The new lion was maybe two feet tall, marigold-yellow with a cyan blue mane and pink satin patches for paw pads. The tuft of fibers on its tail matched the mane, and its big black eyes stared at me in uncomprehending horror. “What—the fluff happened to me?!” It shook his head, rubbing at its face with those useless paws. “The fluff! Fluff?! I can’t even say—this has to be a dream.”

I patted the lion on its head. “Sorry little one, but this is your new life. I don’t know what came before, but I can tell you what comes next!” The stitches around my mouth stretched as for the thousandth time I tried to widen my permanent smile. “You’re going to a loving home to provide badly-needed comfort to someone. Often it’s a child, sometimes an adult, but they need you.”

The lion hung its head, staring down at its plump polyfill-stuffed body. “I was shorting stocks, making money hand over fist. I had it all! Now I’m a stuffed toy in a box, talking to a plush St. Bernard.” It shook, and I pulled it out of its box to squeeze it to my chest, both our bodies compressing a bit. I had no great strength to bring to bear, but after a moment of resistance the lion’s limbs clung to me.

“All that’s behind you now. There are no worries at all, just affection to give. In the still stretches of the night they’ll have you to hold, to whisper to, to soak with tears if need be.” I smoothed some fly-away strands of synthetic fiber back into its mane. “They’ll be your everything, and you will save them.”

“Save them? Me?” With no tear ducts or nose one might think it would be hard to tell when a plushie was crying. The way their body curled in on itself, how the material bunched around their glossy eyes, the dejected droop of their tail all sent the signals. “I’ve never saved anyone. I couldn’t, I’m not worth--”

I tucked my chin over their head, smothering their face in luxurious fluff.  “Shh. That was the old you. You can do it now, and you will. But you do have to promise me,” I pulled them back from my chest and throat to lock eyes once again, “you’ll never try to dip back into that old life. That’s over and there’s no going back.” I flexed the fuzzy little bits on my paw that served as fingers around the even more-formless paws of theirs. “You live in a soft and simple world now. Everyone loves you, no one wants to hurt you, and you will always be safe and treasured.”

“How can you promise that?” It moaned, shaking its head slowly. “I’m just a toy now, and toys aren’t always treated well.”

I tried again to grin, and carried the little lion into my office. “Humans are designed to care for cute things. They can’t help it. You should see the lengths some go to for even the non-living plushies. After a few pointers, they’d never dream of hurting or neglecting you. There’s really just one indignity you’ll just have to live with.”

“What’s that?”

“Laundry day.”