The Great Buddy Crisis of 2008September 29, 2008
Buddy is a stuffed dog, blonde in color, made by Ty but bigger than a Beany Baby. My father gave Sophia the dog for Christmas in 2003, when she was 1 1/2 years old. Ty gave him the name “Tugs,” but Sophia re-named him Buddy.
Sometime in 2004, Buddy became Sophia’s security blanket. She sleeps with him every night, then brings him with her when she gets out of bed in the morning. When she goes on vacation or sleeps over at a friend’s house, Buddy goes with her. He even went with her when she had to have surgery.
So, last Thursday when I was getting Sophia to bed and I noticed that Buddy wasn’t in her room, I didn’t see the harm in letting her fall asleep without him. It had been a busy week and I was eager for her to get some rest… I didn’t want her to go into alert mode while we hunted for Buddy at the opposite end of the house.
So after she fell asleep, blissfully unaware that Buddy was not in the room with her, I got up to look for him. Only I couldn’t find him in any of the usual spots. Dan and Trevor hadn’t seen him, either. I shrugged it off and figured we would look for him in the morning.
When Sophia woke up Friday morning I heard a little sob from her room and ran in to check on her. I asked her what was wrong and she said “Buddy’s gone!”
We looked for Buddy some more in between getting ready for school, but couldn’t find him. I told her we would continue looking for Buddy after she got home from school.
And we did. We looked under every piece of furniture, in every closet, behind every door. We looked in every cabinet and every drawer. In the toy chest. In the car. Buddy was nowhere to be found. So I did what any self-respecting mama would do — I bought a Buddy look-alike on eBay.
For a brief time Friday afternoon, I thought that she was actually accepting the fact that Buddy was lost and we couldn’t find him. She decided to make “Lost Dog” flyers:
In fact, she made over 20 of them, and hung them up all over the house! Her lettering is a little jumbled up, but it says, “No Buddy. Please find! (Try at least.)”
I thought that with her calm but determined sign-making, she was handling the loss of her favorite pet like a mature little grown up. But on Friday night when it came time for her to go to bed and Buddy was not clutched in her arms, it was more than she could bear. It nearly broke my heart as I watched her grieve for Buddy. She sobbed and wailed and kicked at the bed. She blew her nose, drank some water, composed herself and then broke down crying some more. Ultimately, she cried herself to sleep that night.
Dan and I continued to look for Buddy after she was asleep. He said he had a vague memory of working on something and moving Buddy out of the way to a high shelf or some other spot. The remainder of the night, all I could do was mutter, “I can’t believe you lost Buddy,” and glare at him.
(Okay, not really… but almost.)
Saturday morning when Dan went into the bathroom, he looked down and saw the plastic purple footstool that we are always tripping over. For whatever reason, he decided to turn the stool over and sure enough, there was Buddy stuffed inside the hollow underside of the stool! We were all so relieved to see Buddy returned to his owner!
As for the replacement Buddy that’s on its way to me, I’m keeping him as a backup, just in case. And if we never need him, then I will happily give him to my grandchildren one day. (Waaaayyyy off in the future, of course!)
And as for that darned footstool, it is SO out of here!