Missing Ding Dong

I was home alone with Elliot last week.  We were hanging out, playing with toys.  You know, the usual stuff. 

He toddled away from the toy area, his typical home base, toward the TV.  Then, as occurs 75-100 times per day, he lost his balance and fell on his bottom.  

What was unusual about this particular sit-down-fall was its location.  He was right at the crevice where the rug meets the TV stand.  And wedged into that crevice was a long stick with a few feathers on the end.  

So what, you say?  Every household has a stick with a few feathers on the end.  But wait. 

This particular stick with feathers was the favorite toy of Ding Dong, the cat-with-saintly-patience who we had been caring for while our friend Irina was traveling in the Caribbean.  Elliot had grown quite attached to Ding Dong, to the point where he only occasionally tried to poke her eyeballs out.  

Four days earlier, Irina had returned from her travels and taken Ding Dong home.  

Elliot sat there on the rug and looked at the stick with feathers.  It took him a second to recall its function.  He picked up the stick by its non-feather end (a trick that required the whole first week of Ding Dong’s visit) and wiggled it back and forth.  He had a bemused look on his face, like he didn’t quite remember why he used to do this.  

(For a captivating video of elliot wiggling these feathers for Ding Dong, click here.)

He kept moving the stick, back and forth, distractedly.  And then a sudden awareness came into his eyes.  He looked around the room intently, his eyes focused on corners and edges.  

He was looking for Ding Dong.  He looked and looked.  And then he set his eyes on me.   “Ding Dong left,” I said.  He continued to stare.  “She went back to her mommy.” 

The combination of sadness and perplexed wonder in his face just about broke my heart.

He continued to look for her.  And he kept wiggling the stick back and forth.