Puppy is Connor's best friend. He goes everywhere we go. At night he sleeps with Connor. He goes to school with Connor, and sleeps with him at naptime. Puppy is essentially another member of our family.
So we were devastated last week when we returned from our vacation and realized we didn't have Puppy.
Our last memory of seeing Puppy was at lunch that same day. Connor was petting him and placing a napkin gently over him.
"Shhh. He's sleeping," Connor explained softly.
We called the restaurant that evening. They didn't have Puppy.
I tried to explain it to Connor in simple terms.
"Connor, Puppy's gone," I began. "I think we lost him."
"It's ok," Connor responded in a matter-of-fact way. "We'll find him. He'll turn up."
Of course he'd think that. Puppy has gone missing before. He's been left at school and Target. Once he was left behind at Ninah's house, and Ninah was nice enough to mail him to us. But after calling the restaurant AND contacting the owner the next day (an old friend of mine), we knew he wasn't there. I imagined him sitting alone on the boardwalk in Georgetown, lonely and abandoned. Or worse, I imagined him bobbing in Winyah Bay, muddy and wet and cold. Or worse still, I imagined him in a trashcan somewhere, tossed in with rotten food and beer bottles. It made me sad.
It made me even more sad the following day when Connor asked for Puppy at naptime.
"Connor, we called the restaurant and they don't have puppy. I think he's gone."
Connor put his head down and his shoulders slumped foward. He began sobbing. I carried him to his room and tried to console him.
"He's my best friend," he said. "My feelings are hurting."
It was hard to watch. I realized that it was the first time Connor has had to deal with loss.
"Do you remember where you saw him last?" I asked, hoping that Connor could offer a clue--something we hadn't thought of.
"He was taking a nap at the restaurant."
"Did he go to the ice-cream store?"
"No. He can't walk. He's just a pet."
He eventually fell asleep, but he cried again that night when it was bedtime. It was so heartwrenching that even Lee teared up.
That night I spent more than three hours on the internet trying to find Puppy. I finally found him: he is a Ty Classic named Scoundrel. He is "retired", which basically means they don't sell him anymore. He was sold for a short time in 2006, and is apparrently considered rare. I found him on Ebay for $45.
I woke Lee at 1:00 a.m., excited that I'd found Puppy.
"We're not paying $45 for a stuffed animal," Lee replied.
"But it's Puppy."
"No, it's not Puppy. Besides, you know Connor will know the difference."
It was true. Earlier that day I'd given Connor Laila's puppy to sleep with. As he was dozing off, Connor pointed out all the differences. Not the obvious ones--e.g. her dog is white, his is brown. But the tiniest, most minute differences.
"The tags are different," Connor said. "On Laila's Puppy, the tag is right next to the tail. On my Puppy, the tag is a little bit under the tail."
So I knew he'd know it wasn't Puppy. I went to sleep feeling defeated.
The next day Lee called with exciting news.
"I called they ice-cream shop, and they have Puppy!" he said. Connor grinned when he heard it.
On Thursday I drove from Columbia to Georgetown-- 2 1/2 hourse--to get Puppy. Connor hugged him when he saw him. We had ice-cream. We walked along the boardwalk. And when we left, Puppy came home with us.
No comments:
Post a Comment