Can it be Saved?

This post is from that Krazy Kat kinda woman, Mama Kat's Writing Workshop.  This week, she asks, "Can it be saved? Think of something that is ruined when it’s totally wet: like a newspaper or a piece of cheese. Write a scene (truth or fiction) that involves you and a soaked item."  I can't help but think of that song about someone leaving cake out in the rain.

hfmhealth.org

I like stuffed animals.  I think it's rare to find someone who doesn't like stuffed animals.  The only thing I don't like about them is the washing instructions.  Most poly-filled critters require "spot cleaning" only, which really drives me batty.  After all, stuffed animals are usually in the young child's domain - and who else but a young child is going to need to have a critter cleaned on a regular basis? 

flickr.com

Depending on the doo-dads attached to the animal, I usually have no compunctions about tossing them into the washer (tied into a pillowcase, washed on the gentle cycle) and then letting them hit the dryer for a tumble.  Most of them come out, no worse for wear, and looking almost brand new.

Others - well, not so good.

Big Sister had a winter jacket with a really soft and wispy furred hood.  Grandma tossed it into the dryer one wet winter day, and that hood came out looking like it had clumps of sheep wool attached to it, instead of the soft and wispy rabbit-type fur it started with.  I sighed somewhat heavily, having taken care to always drip-dry the jacket, but now resigned to its lifespan being lived out with clumpy trim.

entertainmentearth.com

Fuzzy had an Eeyore that met the same fate.  Eeyore's soft and wispy black mane, instead of looking like black sheepy clumps, just flattened out - never to be soft and wispy again.  Fuzzy didn't seem to mind, though.

Fuzzy's Eeyore

One day, in a rush to get Big Sister's bedding washed, I grabbed the sheets off the bed, rolled them into a ball, and tossed them in the washer.  A trip to the dryer immediately followed.  Later, as I was folding the sheets, a heavy lump was found in the fitted one.  I wasn't sure what it was.  A long-lost pillowcase? Surely not the family pet, who was dodging under the sheets as I tried to fold them.  Upon closer investigation, I found Big Sister's teddy bear.

Now, Big Sister slept with a veritable zoo of animals on a nightly basis.  They ranged in size from extra small beanie baby size to critters that were nearly the same size she was.  I figured if anything ever got lost in the bedsheets, it would be one of those miniscule animals and if it had to head for that big pasture in the sky, Big Sister would likely never miss it.

So much for my good luck.

Out tumbled the teddy bear.

bearthepooh.com

Now, Big Sister has lots of teddy bears.  A big white polar bear with her birth year on his foot.  A Winnie-the-Pooh that was a friend from birth.  A pale brown furry bear. And, The Bear. The One Mom Wrecked. 

thedollworks.net

I don't have a picture of The Bear in his "before" stage. I only have one of The Bear in his "after" stage.  Picture the fur on The Bear looking somewhat like the fur on this bear, at right.  It's kind of wispy, soft, fluffy.  Just the kind of thing a kid likes to snuggle into, and touch.

Imagine my dismay when I saw what the washer and dryer had wrought upon Big Sister's The Bear.  Her face immediately crumpled as she held out her arms to safely enclose the Poor Animal in her loving embrace.

I felt horrible.

I hadn't known that The Bear was even a particular favorite.  I tried wetting down The Bear once more, in hopes that a drip-dry would restore his loveable wispy fur to its former furriness.  But, much like that rabbity-furred hood, it just wasn't gonna happen.  Here is what The Bear looks like, now:

The Bear

Now, he's still soft and squishy and ultra-huggable.  What he is, is no longer "uber-huggable."  You can see his fur no longer resembles that of the bear pictured above (dollworks.com) or the fur on the hood of the Eskimo boy pictured earlier in this post.  Instead, The Bear's fur shrunk up and ended its wispy reign wound into tight little whorls resembling that of a sheep.

So, while The Bear itself was saved, the Fur of The Bear was not saved.  And forevermore, he is known as The Bear Mom Ruined in The Wash.

I might be forgiven when Big Sister turns 40, but no doubt she'll find this blog post somewhere online as written and photographic proof to her own children that Grandma is not to be trusted with stuffed animals.