My Bare Bear has been with me since I was tiny. When I was 3 I threw him in the copper when Mum was doing the washing (can you imagine - three babies under three and doing the washing in a copper under trees. Before we got electricity in the Mallee...). All his lovely soft fur fell out. And when I had my tonsils out at 7 I cut him open and took out his growly bit. He is a bit worse for wear, but he has had a lovely long life. And he knows lots about me that nobody else does.
I love my Bare Bear.