My Stuffed Dog
I have a stuffed dog named Ozzy. He is almost thirteen years old. His back is black and his chest and stomach are brown. Ozzy sits on my bed and reminds me of my dog. My family and some of my friends know about him. When I was a baby and a toddler I would sometimes pretend that he was alive and take him for “walks” around the house. When I am sad sometimes he will cheer me up.
Ozzy is based off my uncles’ old dead dog. My uncle gave him to me when I was about two or three for a birthday present. He has survived my preschool, elementary school, middle school and junior high years. Ozzy doesn’t really mean anything to my family, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t notice him.
Ozzy is priceless to me, if somebody hid him I
I have a stuffed dog named Ozzy. He is almost thirteen years old. His back is black and his chest and stomach are brown. Ozzy sits on my bed and reminds me of my dog. My family and some of my friends know about him. When I was a baby and a toddler I would sometimes pretend that he was alive and take him for “walks” around the house. When I am sad sometimes he will cheer me up.
Ozzy is based off my uncles’ old dead dog. My uncle gave him to me when I was about two or three for a birthday present. He has survived my preschool, elementary school, middle school and junior high years. Ozzy doesn’t really mean anything to my family, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t notice him.
Ozzy is priceless to me, if somebody hid him I