My oldest and dearest possession is a soft toy, bought for my first Christmas, and called Kitten.
Although I had many, many toys as a child for some unknown reason Kitten always held a very special place in my heart. He usually sits on the beside table (well, actually a small chest of drawers) but I moved him to the dining room window to have his photo taken. Kitten has sat next to my bed for as long as I can ever remember. I certainly had him with me when I was at college as a friend of mine there commented that he couldn't be a cat as he had no tail. This is true, and has been commented on a few times since. But he is, most definitely, a cat as he's got whiskers. The same friend also said that perhaps it was being given Kitten at such a young age that gave me my life-long fondness for cats - and maybe she was right.
Kitten is only six months younger than me and, like me, is now showing his age. His feet are getting rather worn, his fur has rubbed off in patches, he's lost his embroidered nose and mouth, and his pink top and blue trousers are very faded. He was once washed but the sight of him hanging on the washing line by his ears was just too tragic - never again.
I've no idea who he was manufactured by, I do seem to have vague memories of there being a label attached to him somewhere but it's long gone, whoever it was they certainly made toys to last. I think the reason I always have Kitten next to the bed is so that should there be a fire in the night he's the first thing I could grab.
I know he looks pretty ragged and 'well-loved' in the photo, and I'm sure he is totally worthless, but to me Kitten is priceless, and the best Christmas present I was ever given.