When I was a young girl aged 4 I used to play with my stuffed monkey named ‘Monke’. It was called Monke because I couldn’t pronounce Monkey. Monke had a strap so whenever I go places he would come with me. The best memory I had with my little Monkey is when I was playing ‘Jungle’. I would always be jumping on the couch and Monke would be strapped on the handle. Monke didn’t really play that much because he was a stuffed animal.
When I would go to sleep I’d strap Monke around my neck to comfort me. Monke makes me feel happy because I always knew I wasn’t alone. Whenever I couldn't find my monkey I would get really upset and cry to my mum. Without my monkey I would have nobody to play with because my oldest sisters didn’t like me hanging around them because I was ‘annoying’. I didn’t want to play with my eldest brother cause he was a boy and my younger brother was in my mummy’s tummy.
Monke was my only one and only stuffed toy I liked. I had only a small amount of teddies but the one that stood out the most was Monke. I loved my little Monkey, it was really special to me but one day it disappeared and my mum didn’t tell me where.