Many years ago, my younger sister had a big stuffed rabbit that she called Bundy. (HalfshellHusband gets stuck on that name every time). Bundy was her favorite toy.
After a couple of years, Bundy got kind of threadbare. So my mother decided to make a new Bundy (and a new Eeyore for me), and move some of the parts from the old toys to the new ones. Stop for a minute and think about that from a little kid's perspective. :0 My Eeyore got the plastic lavender eyes and the ear and mouth-lining from the old one, and I was okay with that. My sister's Bundy #2 got the old Bundy's ear-lining.
What my mother didn't expect was that my sister was NOT prepared to give up Bundy #1. Ever. She dragged that earless rabbit around everywhere, and after about a year it disintegrated until only the head was left. An earless head with a fluffy bunny nose and magic-marker-drawn eyes.
It was creepy-looking. The rest of us named it "Head" for obvious reasons, and spent years using it as a living-room football (!) and wondering WHY my sister wouldn't get rid of it.
I saw Head about a decade ago. It looked much the same, only slightly more threadbare and with red mildew interspersed with the remaining fur. Ewwww…
The bigger question here though, really, is What the heck was my mother thinking? Sometimes I suspect that my mother doesn't really understand that children are not dogs with less fur. Oy. You can tell she doesn't share my sentimental nature. :0