Concurso Jueves de TBT. Pinto y Perucho, cómplices de mi infancia/ Pinto and Perucho, accomplices of my childhood (Esp-Eng)

I was the one who chose the name for each of my dolls. 'Pinto' for obvious reasons, and 'Perucho'... I don't know where I got that from, but I found the name funny. Pinto was the first to appear in my life. He was a little white and chubby dog with black spots that made him look like a Dalmatian. He was given to me by a young neighbor who lived across the street, someone I was very fond of and played with.

I never knew what kind of animal Perucho was, but that didn't matter in the least. From the moment he was given to me—I don't remember by whom—I loved him. Sometimes I think Pinto was jealous of Perucho because he was different; he didn't look like anyone. Perucho was violet-colored and had big eyes that watched over me.

Together, Pinto, Perucho, and I made the perfect team for playing. One thing I never managed was to have them sleep with me. They didn't have a place of honor on the bed because, being allergic to dust, my mom wouldn't let me sleep with them. But they slept on a little table nearby, and every day when I woke up, there they were, ready to say good morning and start another day of games. That little table was their command post, their observatory; from there, they watched over my dreams. There, they waited for my return every morning.

My dolls were much more than pieces of cloth and stuffing. They were my first confidants. To Perucho, because of his sturdy build and serene gaze, I would tell serious things, like the regret I felt towards my mom for misbehaving and not eating all my food. He listened to everything with his permanent smile, and in his silence, I found comfort, as if he kept my "worries" as a mischievous girl in his soft plush belly.

To Pinto, on the other hand, I would tell my adventures, my trips to the countryside to see my grandparents, about how a mango once fell on my head—luckily it was a 'Toledo' mango, which are very small. He was bravery, the playful instinct. Together, Pinto and Perucho formed the welcoming committee for all my new toys. When a new toy was bought for me, they gave their approval or disapproval. If the verdict was bad, that toy never left the drawer.

For many years, Pinto and Perucho accompanied me, although I lost Perucho once when I went to play at a little friend's house and left him there. Later, when my mom and I went to look for him, they said no, he wasn't there. Those were sad days for me. I had to go on without him. So all my affection and attention went to Pinto. It was after secondary school that he took a backseat in my life. One day, without a dramatic goodbye, I stopped needing him. He was banished to a box. Finally a teenager, I was beginning to have other tastes and interests.

Sometimes I miss them, or rather, I miss the little girl I was with them. Having them was like having two friends who don't judge, who don't give unsolicited advice, who are just there, with you, to listen. Pinto is still at my mom's house, there in Havana; my mom says he's for her first grandchild.

Even today, when I close my eyes, I see them with total clarity. Sometimes I think they came to teach me my first lessons about belonging, love, and loyalty, because they hold the tender memory of the girl I was in the purest corner of my memory.