Mama and BFF bought me a den. It was too small. Even though I’m a toy, I’m tall. I couldn’t stand up in it.
So they bought me a bigger one. This one is the right size.
But I’m scared of it.
They put my food in it, but then they tried to close the door while I ate.
I had none of it.
I have these dreams, or memories, or something, about being left in a room like this.
Even though Mama was sitting right there, I still didn’t like that the door was closed. I wouldn’t eat until she’d opened the door, let me out, and snuggled me for awhile.
This is going to take some time.
