The Furry Thing - Writing prompt

I was looking for writing prompts, and today's prompt was to write about a presence in our house.  I decided to pick something that was in the house of my grandparents. 
   
    When we were kids, we would often visit my grandparents house.  They were my fathers parents, and we always called them by their surname, so it was Grandma and Grandpa Surname.  It was odd, in that so many people have funny and cute names for their grandparents, and ours was Grandma and Grandpa Surname.    We did the same with my moms parents, I guess if we were supposed to call them by the formal Grandma and Grandpa, then the surname would be necessary to tell them a part. 

    Whenever we visited my grandparents house, we would play in the pool, or the various rooms.  I don't remember a lot of toys, or kids activities, but in one of the guest rooms, they had this totally odd, fuzzy thing, that honestly, scared the crud out of my sister and I.  Sometimes we would just go in to look at it and be sort of freaked out, but we were also drawn to it, it was like we were trying to conquer our fear by looking at it.

    It was made out of shag carpet, and was some odd color, I don't even remember what it was for real, but I remember it as some dirty ugly yellow, or green, but for all I know it could have been dirty orange, or even  brown.    It had those eyes that followed you whenever you moved.  We would sit in the room, on the bed, and move our heads, we would walk around the room and keep our eyes on it.  It was always there, and it was always watching us. 

    We didn't often stay the night there, as we lived pretty close, but when we did, my sister and I would stay in that room, and on the shelf was that thing.  I don't exactly recall the specifics, but I do remember *wanting* to have it taken out of the room, or at the very least turned around.   I seem to recall, putting it in the hallway, but then I also seem to remember having to keep it there, as our grandparents didn't want us touching and moving their stuff. 

    I remember thinking, in the way that only very young children can think, that our grandparents put it there to watch us, so that they would know what we did when we were in the room, supposedly sleeping, or playing, or whatever.  Our grandparents were actually very nice to us, and we enjoyed our visits, but as a young kid, I remember them being stern as well.  It was likely a generational thing.  They were of course 500 years old, to a young 5yo. 

    My grandparents died when I was 9, and I don't know whatever happened to that thing.  I sometimes still see it and occasionally think about those times as a kid, looking at that thing. 

    It's weird the types of things that we hold on to, for years on end.  It's been 30 years now since I have last seen that, and yet in my dreams, I may see it sitting on the shelf in the room, watching us as we room, and waiting until we leave, so it can tell my grandparents what we were doing.