come home, Snoopy

I did get to the mall last night, and bought myself a stuffed Snoopy. I was originally hoping for a lifelike cat, or maybe one made to look like a wild animal, a wolf or a panther or something. When I went up to the toy floor, though (this mall has specific foci on each floor) the choice was between te Peanuts store or some Disney characters or odd brightly-colored indeterminate critters with big eyes. It was an easy decision; I’ve always had an affinity for Snoopy and his people, ever since I was very small, in the days when I read only Peanuts and the Family Circle, because the rest of the comic page was too hard or too boring. By the time I was old enough to read all the comics, I had a few Peanuts collections and was getting others out of the library. There was a partied where you could give me the lead-in of any strip from 1950 up through the 1970s, and I could tell you the ending. (No one ever wanted to play that game, to my regret.) I stopped following it quite as religiously when I moved away from home and the easy availability of a daily newspaper, but I’ve never lost my fondness for Schulz’s work.

This is actually my third Snoopy; the first, acquired when I was three or younger, was much bigger than I was (3′ or so). The next was wearing a shirt that said “Puppy Love”, and was given to me by Victor at my 9th birthday party (we figured his mom picked out the present). At that sentimental age, I was old enough to be consciously fond of stuffed animals – not young enough to honestly play with them, but the age for them to be the necessary accoutrements for the proper preteen girl’s bed. I acquired a few other animals to keep him company, notably a hot-pink cat with long fur that got ratty very quickly, but the Snoopy was the only one I really bonded with. I still have him, but I suppose he’s off in a cold and lonely storage container somewhere, poor thing. (Anyway, that shirt made him a bit less snuggly than he ought to have been.) This new Snoopy is the most minimalist one of all the choices available. I might have settled for a Joe Cool with sunglasses, or a WWI Flying Ace with helmet and goggles, but I love the strip too much to buy anything that’s just not right. No Snoopy in boardshorts (actually, I can at least imagine him surfing), or lying on a star, or dressed like a Christmas elf, or worst of all lying on his stomach for me. (Everyone knows Snoopy sleeps on his back, at the peak of his doghouse. I must say that since I’d never seen an actual doghouse, it took me years to realize that was supposed to be odd.) The one I chose is small, but big enough to hold and feel uou’re holding something. It was only after I’d left the store that I remembered that there’s a Discovery store, or something like one, tucked in a back corner of the mall, that might have had a more lifelike animal, but by then I’d remembered how much I like Snoopy anyway.

Afterward, I went down to the below-ground floor and saw a random stuffed animal display. (The bottom floor is for food, housewares, and, aparently, random stuff.) There I also bought a tiny round penguin. Much easier to explain that one, I just fell in love with penguins when we were in Antartica. It’s not so much that this stuffed animal looks like a realistic penguin, as that penguin chicks do look a lot like stuffed animals.

Whether it’s coincidence or not, I slept well last night.

Two other things: I’ll probably make the cardigan for me after all; I forgot that to make a larger size I would also have needed to cast on more stitches to start with.

And, uh, sorry, America, but apparently I do owe you all an apology. (Last paragraph in that link.)

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1 Response to come home, Snoopy

  1. l'empress says:

    When I lived in a college dorm (circa 1958-1962), the dorm subscribed to two newspapers — The New York Times and the Hartford Courant. The Times, of course, does not publish comics. The Courant does, but at that time it did not carry Peanuts.

    So, every Sunday morning, while other people were sleeping off hangovers, I would trudge over to the drugstore to buy a New York Herald Tribune, specifically for Peanuts, even though it was my paper of choice until it stopped publishing in the U.S. Made me the most popular person on Sunday mornings.

    My current paper is rerunning old Peanuts strips but, y’know, after fifty years I’m getting tired of them.

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