On the day of my birth, Foo-Foo was a gift from my great-grandmother, Mary Whelan. I think every child latches on to one stuffed animal as a toddler. My James has his Tom and I had my Foo-Foo.
Other toys came and went through the years, but Foo-Foo remained a constant. He hung around until I moved in with my wife over ten years ago. At that time he was boxed up because I was simply unable to throw him out. Every once in a while I go through my old stuff and come across Foo-Foo. He's still stored away in that box, but he's here and that's what matters. They can throw him out after I'm gone, but while I'm alive he's unchuckable.
Lookin' good Foo-Foo. Lookin' good...
