Is
there anything more heart wrenching than a child's tears for a lost
friend? Our home went on emergency alert tonight. Fluffy was missing.
This was first brought to my attention this afternoon. A quick search of
the usual spots turned up nothing and with hours to bed I convinced the
boy that she would turn up in time to tuck him in. Then bedtime
arrived and no playful puppy. Once again we hit all the usual spots and
then took to shaking out blankets and moving pillows. Finally we emptied
out toy boxes and checked the bottom of closets. Nothing. Then the
light bulb went off. We went with dad to the store as a break from
lessons today. We didn't get out of the car while he ran in to fill
water bottles but The Fluffinator did come along for the ride. We felt
sure that she was sitting in the car waiting to be brought inside. The
hope that had him flying out to the car turned to abject despair when
once again the search turned up no pup.
Fluffy has been top dog for almost a year now but really is only the
latest of best stuffed buds and while the others have been promoted to
the bedroom security team, they are all within reach and sight at all
times in their various posts on the toy boxes and shelves around the
room. I pointed out that any one (or even all) of them would be happy to
fill in for the night. I was met with the quivering chin and huge tear
drops of a seven year old who has almost grown past the need for bedtime
buddies but still needs to cling to that last bastion of security. His
head nodded yes, my idea was a good one, but the shudders of suppressed
despair spoke volumes, inspiring dad to immediately drop what he was
doing to join the search party. Our boy needed his bud.
We
gathered in the living room to brain storm the places we hadn't looked
yet. Obviously we hadn't looked everywhere because we hadn't found her.
Unless she had run off (Yes, Toy Story was running through my head), she
had to be here. Another search of all possible places the boy had been
during the afternoon, turned up nothing. Then just as we were beginning
the conciliatory phrases that would brace our son for a night spent
cuddling a penguin instead of a pooch, I saw it.
A patch of shaggy brown
fur poking from behind the couch. (Hadn't I already looked there a
hundred times?)
Further investigation identified the patch of scraggly
fur as a leg and attached to the leg were other legs and a body and head
of matching matted beige and brown fur. Fluffy had slipped between the
couch arm and the wall at some point during the day. She was wedged in
pretty tight. With Toy Story still fresh in my mind, I could just see
her straining to stick her scraggly paw toward the light in a desperate
attempt to get our attention. I could hear her whimper softly,
"Please
don't abandon me, you are so close and I really need to snuggle with my
boy. I have had a really rough day!"
Crisis
averted indeed!
A pup rescued from the oblivion of out of sight out of
mind and a boy peacefully sleeping with pup in full cuddle mode. After
this scare, he probably won't be giving her up anytime soon. I can't
really complain though. I have boxes of stuffed animals in storage
dating back to my own childhood. Standing guard over the lot of them, much like he
guarded my bed each night for the many years, until overwhelming need for repairs made him retire, is Shaggy, my stuffed sheep dog puppy.
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