I wonder if this is what became of Hobbes

I used to have a stuffed tiger I loved. Her name was Princess Marie. The other portion of this story is that I have a small ledge that runs across the baseboard of my room. It's not large enough to do anything with, not even storing books, but it means there's about a six-inch space between the wall and where I can put furniture.

Somehow, Mari-hime ended up behind my dresser, sitting on the ledge, staring at me. It's almost like an accusation.