my stuffed animal

I've had my stuffed dog Chewie since I was very young. He is a timeworn brown lab, with matted fur and one eyeball. Oh how I well never will forget the day he lost his eye. My mom accidently washed him in the high rinse cycle, apparently that is too much for his little body. The sound of the glass eye was banging all around in the washer, it sounded like there was a hailstorm going on in my basement. Poor old Chewie, that sure did put ten years on him though. Now that Chewie is no longer allowed to be washed, he smells of an old sock. Not one of those dirty socks that you would find at the bottom of your gym locker, but just a sock that has been worn and torn and for some reason you don't want to let go of it because you have made an emotional attachment to it. The sock has been with you during your ups in downs, kind of like Chewie and I. Chewie means so much to me that now I won't travel as long as he is coming, he has to experience it too. One time I left Chewie in Puerto Rico. Worst day of my life. The sounds of my crying were nonstop that whole plane ride home. You would have thought I was about to die or something, but no, I just lost Chewie. Don't worry though, my mom called up the hotel later and they actually found him, all hidden underneath the bed. They sent him home in a squarish brown package the following week. I swore to god that night that I would never ever leave Chewie anywhere again. Chewie is the only stuffed animal that gets the privilege to sleep next to me, he should feel lucky. I mean I can't even fall asleep without him, I've tried and it's not fun. I get nightmares. He is just so comforting to hold and I love breathing in the warm and soft old sock smell.
Through thick and thin Chewie has always been there for me, he is my best friend and always will be.