For my fifteenth birthday, I’d decided I was going to buy myself my own gift. Something I’d use but didn’t exactly need (I had a habit of buying things I wouldn’t use). This weighted cheetah kept me grounded through far too many breakdowns in four years. My mother asked me if I was sure about getting a stuffed animal for myself. I had already dressed this stuffed animal, Gertrude I named her, in a bathing suit along with hats and sunglasses. I’ve now had her for three years and haven’t spent a night without her. I’ve held her through many sick nights and long ones with lots of tears. She’s been washed far too few times but at least washed more than once.