Not Everyone Can Bring Life To Stuffed Toys

Some people know how to handle stuffed animals.

Some don’t.

That simple truth was played out last week outside Peters & Sons. For several days, the downtown flowers and gifts shop held a sidewalk sale. And “plush toys,” as they’re called, were the featured attraction.

As someone who happily walks by that store’s display window virtually every day, I can tell you. They’ve got a terrific lineup.

High-quality owls, foxes, sheep, cows, tigers, dogs, wolves, frogs, raccoons, anteaters, badgers, skunks, beavers, eagles, pigs, penguins, puffins, otters - you name it. They even have great make-believe house cats, which are hard to find. And in the first few days of the sale, a fair representation of that quiet menagerie formed a peaceable kingdom outside on some tables.

One time, I walked by and the only person examining this not-so-wild wildlife was a gray-haired guy enveloped in a cloud of his own cigarette smoke. He handled a light brown stuffed bear as if he were holding a cracked test tube filled with a urine sample. Needless to say, the bruin being inspected did not seem especially animated in his hands.

It occurred to me that any one of the nonthreatening panhandlers loitering in front of the McDonald’s a few doors down would have done a better job of bringing that bear to life.

You see, the thing about playing with stuffed animals is this. No matter how cute, they can’t do it alone. As any 3-year-old could tell you, it’s necessary to help them project their individual personalities.

It’s kind of like channeling, only less New Agey.

You want to know if a stuffed animal is any good? You’ve got to look into its eyes, move its arms around and listen for its inner voice. And maybe have it munch a friend.

Another time last week, a cluster of women hovered around the tables and made a suitable fuss over the retail adoption lineup. But if I had to guess, at least some of them were shopping for baby shower gifts. Their enthusiasm probably had more to do with the discounts than the charm and understated good manners of the stuffed rabbits and dolphins.

But finally, Thursday, the last day of the sidewalk sale, I saw what I had been waiting to see.

A thirtysomething woman with long black hair picked up a dark brown bear. And as she helped him work the kinks out of his arms and legs, she pulled him up to her face and touched his nose against hers. She smiled.

“I’ll take this one,” she said.

, DataTimes MEMO: Being There is a weekly feature that looks at gatherings in the Inland Northwest.