I’m 40 years old and I have a collection of stuffed animals.
Among furries this is pretty much par for the course. If you visit my flat I’ll probably invite you to browse my collection; if you stay overnight on my couch I’ll probably offer up one or two as sleeping companions.
I usually hide them when non-furries are visiting. Not so long ago a non-furry type visited, in an otherwise furry group. He’s furry-aware and furry friendly, but reacted with no small amount of shock and bemusement when I emerged from the bedroom with a handful of zebras to share around. Photos were taken for the amusement of others: look at this weird thing these adults are doing.
Continue reading Editorial: On Stuffed Animals