I lifted Fudge from the nightstand and pushed him and his outfits into my bag. Castile, our third line winger, had left his bear at home during that disastrous away game the week before. There was no way I was going to be the one to bring the gods of bad hockey down on us after that and had religiously checked that Fudge and his entire wardrobe were with me for every practice and game since.
