My grandmother made me that blanket and gave it to me when I was one day old. I kept it close to me ever since then. I called it my weechie although I never learned why. It was my comforter, my confessor, my protector and at times it was my only friend. I loved that thing to death, even into my twenties.
Now Bela cuddles to bed with it. She even calls it her weechie. Its the single most touching and heartbreaking thin Ive ever had the pleasure to witness.