My toys and their frailty have been featured twice before. They are by no means the only ones I’ve accidentally destroyed. One you may not know about is a mouse with many tails. In fact, it is at the center of a mystery in our household. One day, it just up and disappeared.
It was one of my favorites, too. The pompons at the end of each tail would fly around as the mama shook the mouse. I love little, fuzzy balls. Great effort was deployed in the search for the missing toy. I remember humans getting on their hands and knees to look under every piece of furniture. Is it under the bed? Beneath one of the bookcases? Hiding under a nightstand?
The investigation even continued downstairs. Could it be under the coffee table? Did it get jammed under a sofa? Just where is that mouse? Watching the whole ordeal was great fun. It happened over a year ago. I am bringing it up now, or digging it up, as it were, because the bearded one just checked the final theory as to its whereabouts.
You see, back then, when I was a tiny kitten, I liked to climb behind the drawers at the foot of the bed. The staff thus assumed I had brought the toy in that unreachable space and that it was stuck there. The other day, struck by some belated inspiration, the papa reached under the bed with his phone and used the flash to take pictures.
But the pictures showed nothing. The mouse wasn’t there. The search continues. Little do they know it will never end. They will never find the mouse.
Because I ate it.