I named Ian after my uncle when I compared Ian’s long arms and legs to his. One night I ran up to Uncle Ian at a family party and told him I had named my monkey after him. His eyebrows wrinkled in confusion, then a chuckle£¨¹þ¹þЦ£©escaped his lips. I guess he didn’t understand how important it was to me.

Even if Uncle Ian didn’t think my monkey was special, I certainly did. I dressed him in a white baby nightgown. My mother thought that Ian was the best-dressed stuffed animal in the world. Yes, he was certainly a fashionable creature. The strong cologne£¨¿Æ¡ÏãË®£©I used on him years ago makes him still smell “pretty”.

For a long time, Ian went everywhere with me. He was my best friend, and I told him everything. But when I turned twelve, I realized I was too old for stuffed animals. I thought people would think I was babyish, so I put him in the cupboard with the rest of my teddy bears and dolls. I begged him to understand why I was doing this, but at the same time I longed to talk to him again.