I lay, numb, hardly able to bear the loneliness throughout the night, waiting for that slim sliver of sunlight to pierce the dreams of my omnipresent god, he who wakes soon and embraces me.
Yea, tho I lay silently, stuffed dispassionately near Winne the Pooh, I swell with pride as I await my master's voice, and ensuffer the slings and arrows of the misfortune of being shoved under an odiferous diaper.
This is my fate, I am small, but I have been awarded a great honour. Truly I have been sanctified, even blessed, the most glorious am I, He Who Drags Me Everywhere, my memories are a magnificent tapestry of experience in my short delicious life.
I have suffered for my master, many times, as warm pureed peas and carrots have stained my armour, as dogs teeth have savagely attempted to tear me from my master's arms, as tricycles and matchbox cars have used and abused my very soul.
These are trying times, yet I bear the horrors of the screams and outrage of cooked beets, because I also know the warm coos of Gerber Pudding, and it has been said that joy and sorrow walk through the same door.
The firm arm of my Master begins to search for me, the morning birds awaken him with their fastidious preaching, Wake Up! O Ye Golden One, He Who Has A Pants Full, Awaken!
The screams of my Master are soon quieted as He finds me, as I feel Him pull me into His arms, where I am anointed every morning with the Holy Drool.
What will the day bring, who knows, who cares, because this is my my fate! My life! My reason for existence! I!
Blankie! I serve with humility! I soothe the troubled One! I am the balm that heals when monsters hide in the night-closet, I am the medicine that calms the weary when my Master tumbles down the stairs into the laundry basket.
No, not even Binky , nor even the enviable Pooh, can undermine my importance! They both know this Truth, yet refuse to believe it, fools that they are!
I am my Master's servant, and will serve til my fiberous being is shredded into pulpous thready whatnot.
I bow to my Glorious Fate.