Daniel clung tight to his favourite cuddly toy. Of all the toys he had, the pale brown furry Sloth was the best. Daniel carried it everywhere, its long legs nearly touching the floor.
‘His name is Bruce,’ Daniel told his mum. So Bruce the Sloth it was. His mum stitched the name on the toy's back in bright red thread.
One day, travelling home on the bus with his mum, Daniel dozed off. Reaching their stop, his mum took him in her arms still fast asleep and carried him home.
Waking later in his bedroom, Daniel looked around frantically searching for Bruce. Screams alerted his mum, a red tear-stained face greeted her as she opened the door to his room. ‘ Bruce has gone, where is he?’ whimpered the little boy. Full of guilt, realizing it had been left on the bus, Daniels's mum placated him. ‘He’ll come home, they always do. It will just take him longer, Sloths are notoriously slow,’ she told him gently.
Days turned to weeks, then weeks to years.
Daniel grew but the memory of his furry friend never left him.
Helping out at a local charity shop many years later, Daniel was sorting through a box of donated items. His eyes opened wide, there sitting amongst all the discarded toys was a very tattered and quite furless cuddly toy, only just discernible as a Sloth.
Daniel couldn't believe it, there in faded red stitches sewn on its back was the name Bruce. ‘Hello, old friend.