Dodo Goes Missing

Being a father of healthy ego I assumed my son’s first word would be Dada. It was not. It was Dodo. Dodo is a small stuffed dog who has been with my wife since her college days. This token of the past was quickly expropriated by my boy in his unending quest to obtain more stuffed animals. Dodo soon became my son’s favorite toy and served as a vigilant and ever-present sidekick. His role is unquestionable and well documented. This particular stuffed dog can be seen in more than his fair share of family photos. Recently the unthinkable occurred: Dodo was lost.

Dodo reached such a high status that we actually had back-up Dodos; identical clones that were kept sealed away in the event of a Dodo related emergency. The stash of redundant Dodos was a result of my wife’s disaster planning after she envisioned scenarios like losing Dodo at Disneyworld. Dodo #2 was to be deployed only in emergency situations. We took special care to ensure that both Dodos were not seen together for fear that this would cause our son to think he had reached the nexus of the universe; a parallel dimension where Dodo could meet Dodo. Over time the backup was utilized too often, usually at bedtime when I lacked the energy to search the playroom for the original Dodo. This fail-proof backup plan was neutralized the day that my son found the Dodos together. One day we found him with Dodo #1 and Dodo #2 firmly clutched to his chest. Not only had he found them together, he embraced the idea of double the Dodo. In the end Dodo #1 remained the favorite.

Just a few days before Dodo disappeared he was in the kitchen, recovering from another surgery, this time a whimsical rhinoplasty to replace the stuffing in his nose.  My wife commented on how great the animal had held up over the years, in spite of the fact that he has lost quite a bit of fur, his tail no longer curled, and his once shiny eyes were now rough and matted. She commented that we should take photos of the Dodos to preserve the memories. Yet before we could Dodo #1 was gone.

I was worried that my son would not cope well. That first night there was tossing and turning and someone could not sleep. I checked on my son and he was out cold. My wife on the other hand was restless. In her sleep she was haunted by various images, Dodo face down in a parking lot, Dodo in a trash can, and even Dodo covered with dust bunnies under a display at the local BabysRUs. The next day she called lost-and-founds around town. Dodo was MIA.

Hoping to be a hero I staged several late night search and rescue missions while the family slept.  I searched high and low, delving in to the most unlikely of hiding places.  Each hunt came up empty, although I did find several balls, three missing socks, and my sunglasses. A few weeks later my son nonchalantly opened a kitchen drawer that I didn’t even realize existed. With wide eyes he lifted Dodo #1 to the sky. Dodo had been on sabbatical in the kitchen all along. The discovery brought great joy to our family. In the end I realized that some toys can carry sentiment beyond these early years, and beyond our own children. Dodo is just a thing, but it is symbolic of our child’s youth. The more I think about it that, the more I realize that it is something worth preserving.