The Story of My Transitional Object

I never had a transitional object when I was a kid. My mom stayed home with me and my brother until...um, until 2004, when I turned 18. 'Twas a time of introspection and the re-evaluation of my significance in the world (and especially my significance to my mother), but I pulled through. However, that is neither here nor there.

When I turned three, an aunt gave me Pooch.

This is where - if I had my druthers - I would post a picture of Pooch, or a dog like her. Unfortunately, Pooch is one of a kind, evidently (and I googled, so I know it's true). Even though I've heard conflicting reports as to her origin, the majority of the evidence pointed to a past in Pound Puppy land. I don't really think that's the case though, because Pooch's eyes are round, and she has a tuft of hair on her head. And she has thread on her feet that show you where her toes are. Distinctly un-Pound Puppy-ish.

ANYWAY, My aunt actually gave me a compound gift: Pooch came with a baby dog, a tiny facsimile, sewn to her back. I was three and hilariously uncreative, so my parents named them for me; my mom named Pooch, and my dad named the baby Sputnik. This bit of parental tag-teaming is SO INDICATIVE of their personality styles it's not even funny.

On my first day of kindergarten, I strolled into Ms. Walker's class (yes, strolled - my parents had had me enrolled in preschool since I was a fetus and I considered myself an expert at being apart from them) with Pooch in hand. I sat down, and some kid asked me to see her. I handed her over and immediately regretted it, so I freaked out and bit him.

Yeah, I know. I didn't realize how intense I was about Pooch until that moment, either.

Ever since then, Pooch and I have been best friends. And what of Sputnik? When I wanted to take them both to kindergarten, my mom said I had better not or I would lose him, since he was so small, and that was the beginning of the schism between us growing wider. Eventually we just grew apart, you know how it is.

When I went through middle and high school, I didn't really feel all that connected to Pooch. I felt that the time had come for me to put away childish things, a struggle though it was. I went on trips without her, but when I had a problem, Pooch was the one whose back I squished in for a pillow. And when I drove away to the airport last year, when I realized that I had left Pooch, I turned and went back. That's how much Pooch means to me.