Look around and choose and object in the room. Now write something from the point of view of that object.

I really wish I could move. Being upside down, legs splayed, like a bloated, dead animal isn't the most comfortable position. You'd think after being washed, twirled and dried, I'd be clean enough to get some extra attention. But no. I am just good for night cuddling. And keeping the bad dreams away.
My white mane and tail are tamed. My brown fur smells like tide detergent. My hooves, even though they are brown, are pristine. I bend and move to my owner's demands. Get smushed against mattresses and tossed across the bed. And some nights, I get cuddled, then forgotten, left in the middle of the bed, alone and afraid of the shadows covering the room.
Why do people take advantage of us? I mean, we're always there for them. We don't get up and walk away. We stay right where they leave us. We help them calm their fears. So why don't they give us some extra attention? Maybe a little play time to show we're more than just a stuffed thing they own?
By tonight, I'm going to be tucked inside arms, held tight, and keeping bad dreams at bay. I wish that were enough. But I'd like more.
Life's tough when you wait for the sun to go down. The days are long, filled with endless light.
Can you guess what I am?