We looked and looked, but no puppy. Emma was sure she had taken her on the sleepover, though she could not remember what she had done with her when she had packed to come home. So, I called our friends to inquire if they had come across Whipped Cream. They assured me that they had not seen her, but if they did they would let us know right away. I was (secretly) convinced that the puppy MUST be at their house and also (secretly) felt they didn't appreciate the urgency of the situation, but of course I did not say anything to that effect. As we had searched exhaustively for the puppy, there was simply no other explanation.
A few more weeks passed. Every few nights, Emma would emerge from her room, tears on her face, professing her longing for Whipped Cream and her fear that she would never see her again. I frankly had given up hope of ever finding the little dog.
Well, on our recent camping trip, while the kids were in the tent setting up their sleeping bags we heard a delighted squeal and Emma proclaiming, "It's Whipped Cream!! Mom! Dad! She was in my sleeping bag!" (By the way, Emma has a reputation for finding secret hideaways for things and promptly forgetting about them.)
Later that night, as we lay down to go to sleep, with Emma beside me clutching Whipped Cream tightly, I remarked, "What's that smell?"
"What does it smell like?" the family queried.
"I don't know..." I said, "...poop?" eliciting much laughter from the children.
After searching the tent for the source of the offensive odor, I took a whiff of Whipped Cream. Eww. Not poop exactly, but what you would expect a stuffed dog to smell like after it has been wrapped tightly in a sleeping bag for 2 months.
Little girl and little dog were temporarily separated again. Upon returning home, Whipped Cream received a bath and now smells pleasingly of Woolite. And now, if you will excuse me, I must make a quick (sheepish) phone call to our friends to let them know that Whipped Cream (who has, as of this writing, been renamed Vanilla) is home safe and sound.
Later that night, as we lay down to go to sleep, with Emma beside me clutching Whipped Cream tightly, I remarked, "What's that smell?"
"What does it smell like?" the family queried.
"I don't know..." I said, "...poop?" eliciting much laughter from the children.
After searching the tent for the source of the offensive odor, I took a whiff of Whipped Cream. Eww. Not poop exactly, but what you would expect a stuffed dog to smell like after it has been wrapped tightly in a sleeping bag for 2 months.
Little girl and little dog were temporarily separated again. Upon returning home, Whipped Cream received a bath and now smells pleasingly of Woolite. And now, if you will excuse me, I must make a quick (sheepish) phone call to our friends to let them know that Whipped Cream (who has, as of this writing, been renamed Vanilla) is home safe and sound.
3 comments:
You and Emma really need to read the old book "Dogger," by Shirley Hughes, if you haven't already.
Of COURSE they laughed when you said "Poop." Of COURSE!
What a sweet story of reuniting with "Whiped Cream," oh, I mean, "Vanilla." So how do you wash stuffed animals anyway? B's dog is on need of a good bath and all i can think of is using a wipe since it says do not throw in washing machine.
I used to throw Jared's favorite stuffed puppy in the washing machine, but I don't think that was good for it. With Emma's I just used a scrubbing brush which I dipped in soapy water (Woolite) then brushed it with just water to get the soap out. Then I hung it up to dry.
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