A couple of lifetimes ago, just after the BeerHound had moved away to work at...that really big important hospital, I went to visit her and she handed me this stuffed...thing.
"Here's your Mister Right!" she said.
"Ummmm," I said, hesitating to even put my hand out to take it.
It was...how do I describe it. In craft stores, you can buy fabric that's pre-printed with a pattern on it. This one was a stuffed toy; you were supposed to cut it out, sew it, and stuff it, and presto, instant toy.
This one was a cowboy. He actually looked like a Cabbage Patch cowboy. Doughy face. Benign smile. About 2 feet high.
"Why," I asked, "Is he called Mister Right?"
"'Cause he's a snappy dresser and he doesn't talk back!"
Mkay. Good enough.
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