Nappi was really my sister’s teddy but since we both discarded him in turn, he’s been adopted by my father and his wife.
When he first arrived in the family he was larger than my one-year-old sister. Older, but too young to understand the importance of this furry friend, we two naughty sisters decided the name of the teddy, Nappi (Button in English) should be permanently engraved on his paw with felt tip pen, lest anyone should forget it. Which one of us gouged his eye out, or left him with just the one ear, I’m not sure. Neither do I remember the doll he’s now been put in charge of.
In his old age Nappi gets doggy bags from restaurants, cards from abroad and is generally better cared for than either my sister or I managed. ‘He’s easier to leave than a dog would be,’ says my step-mother. But I’m not convinced. He gazes me with great sadness from his vantage point on the top of the wardrobe as I sit up in bed writing this.