When I was a little girl, I had a cherished stuffed dog who I imagined could fly with his brown, floppy ears. One day, I was at a department store with my mother and mistakenly left the dog in a dressing room. Of course, neither of us realized it until after we left the store. At home, I waited panic stricken, as my mother made phone calls to the Lost and Found, and several store managers. I never saw my little dog again, but I imagined that he found his way to the toy section, and lived there happily with new friends. There was another childhood friend of mine, a stuffed bear named Theodore. He had the most compelling black eyes and pudgy tummy. If ever a stuffed animal was "real," Theodore was. But whoever created my little bear, made a terrible and seemingly permanent mistake. The black line of his mouth was sewn into a frown. No matter what I did, tea parties, outdoor picnics, a doll house mansion, Theodore would never be happy. It broke my heart so much, I asked my gra