"Comfort object" sounds clinical but the right phrase eludes me. Nick's comfort object was a beanbag-y plush dog named Bernard. Having lost his eye in the early '80s, you might think Bernard has not seen much of the world. However in 2007, he secretly accompanied me to Europe and had a gay old (one-eyed, noseless) time.
(Mine was a brown, plush teddy bear with a red velvet bow tie - a Christmas present from my aunt when I was very small. I named him, uncreatively, "Chris" after the occasion that brought us together. In his current state he is flattened, the plush rubbed completely off the seam of his belly, his plastic eyes scuffed matte. When I was a kid I would make lists in my head in bed at night. Full disclosure: I still do this . When I listed most loved people in order it usually played out like this: 1. Mom and Dad 2. Chris 3. my brother and sister. A super important sack of poly-fill to be sure!)