Patrick the Girraffe

Patrick the giraffe is my toy who comes with me on my journey.
He is giraffe coloured and has a mane, but he he has a short neck and a round belly.

People often comment on Patrick or tweak his nose or shake his hooves, sometimes he is misguidedly called a teddy, and people get told off for that, which usually leads to a conversation. One eccentric lady apologised to him sincerely and introducted herself to him.
Patrick is a bit like the assistance dog that I wish I had, he helps me to communicate.
A number of Autistic people have assistance dogs and I wish I could have one, but the demand for assistance dogs is great and the supply of trained dogs is short. Assistance dogs help autistic people to communicate and interact and stay safe.

Patrick lives on the side of my backpack, his seat belt is the side strap on the backpack.

Patrick came from a daycentre in London, he was on the free gifts table where people donate things for homeless people, there were two teddies and Patrick, and before I could go over and investigate, an immigrant picked Patrick up and the immigrants were abusing him and throwing him about, but he kept smiling.
The teddies were no good, one was huge, one was tiny, and I wasn't sure the giraffe was the right size anyway, I can't measure because I have learning difficulties, but patrick isn't small and he isn't large either.

Anyway, the immigrants stopped thowing the giraffe around and put him back on the table, the giraffe smiled at me and so I picked him up and fastened him to my backpack and left the daycentre.

The giraffe remained nameless for a long time, I didn't try to name him, I wasn't in any way attached to him, he just deserved better than immigrants being cruel to him. But the giraffe with his big smile attracted a lot of attention, and people asked his name all the time.
His first name was from my Christian Romanian homeless friend, he told me that the giraffe's name was whatever day of the week it was. So I accepted that. Then B. named the giraffe Percy, and told me it was a metaphor for something crude, so I protested, and he renamed him Patrick.

Patrick was washed by one of my fellow survivors not long after I got him, but all the handling and nose tweaks that he gets led to him needing his recent bath.
I am vary between being in my own world and being a bit anxious and self conscious of my scruffy hunched up self, but now people grin when they see me and I know it is because of Patrick, so I grin too, he is a good asisstance giraffe, he cheers me and everyone up.

My previous toys included a squirrel and a seal puppy, but none of them had the roaring popularity that Patrick enjoys. He is bigger than them and he smiles.

On the journey we have met several homeless ladies who carry teddies with them, one of these ladies was German and she said that in Germany everyone has a toy.

Patrick wrapped in a jumper also doubles as a pillow if necessary.

If you see someone with a giraffe hitching a ride on their backpack, say hello, break up my silent world for a minute. I am quite friendly if I am spoken to, never mind what the church say.