when i was a kid, a stuffed animal was simply a stuffed animal. i lined the edge of my bed nightly with every batting-filled creature i owned and rotated them at each bed time according to a very complex but fair system that gave them equal time spent in proximity to me. looking after all of these sensitive animal feelings was hard work! but it was nothing like the trials and tribulations of modern stuffed animal ownership.

when the ganz company invented webkinz a few years back, stuffed animals became more than dust-collecting self-objects. now kids can snuggle with a plush canine, for example, AND use a special code on the dog’s tag to “play” with her on an interactive website. though my children have yet to enter the world of webkinz, i became fascinated with the concept a few years ago when a friend’s children gave me a breathless and excited run-down on their newly adopted hamster and the responsibilities inherent therein. as the elementary-school-aged girls were explaining that feeding and playing with the new pet would ward off illness, i was struck by one single question:

“can a webkinz die?” i blurted out.

my husband covered my mouth and forbade me to initiate these poor children into the harsh realities of death.

i laid my curiosity to rest (so to speak) until yesterday, when another friend remarked that her children came home from school with reports that the newly adopted webkinz pet of a classmate is seriously ill. apparently, said pet is in dire need of a visit to “dr. quack,” the resident webkinz doctor. the problem, however, is that the pet’s owner is all out of “kinzbucks,” and can not afford the doctor’s visit. perhaps the webkinz world is in need of health care reform, but in the mean time, my question remains… can webkinz die?

as you can see from the interspersed pictures, i am now the proud parent of elvis, a webkinz mountain goat. i snagged him from what can only be described as third-world conditions in a store that sold women’s cosmetics, hair bows, bouncy balls, nail polish, and who knows what else. i purchased elvis for the express purpose of killing him. if this sounds cruel to you, please remember that elvis’ real life with my children will be a happy one, filled with his fair share of time spent in rotating proximity to the monkey and the bird. but his internet persona is definitely on the line.

for now, internet elvis is happily eating an apple and a yogurt smoothie in his new room, which is adorned with an area rug, a barrel cactus, and a wet bar. and i’ll have you know that each of these items cost me a pretty penny.

enjoy yourself while you can, elvis. pour yourself a drink. stretch out on your new rug. because your days are numbered.