Sophie has gone walkabout. I thought she left the table when we were eating brunch; perhaps she needed to use the little giraffe’s room, I don’t know. But when I called the restaurant to ask if they had a short plastic giraffe who answers to the name of Sophie, the news was not good. And it wasn’t accompanied by the small chuckle I had expected either.
She did visit the beach earlier that day; maybe she liked it so much she made her way slowly back that way. Either way, Sophie, if you’re reading this, please come home. There’s a little man that misses you very much and couldn’t concentrate on his cereal this morning without your squeaking bringing him back to the present time. I know you might be a little offended by his mouthing of your nose, your legs and your neck, but you’ll never find that kind of love elsewhere. Not at the beach, nowhere.
It doesn’t mean he loves you less. He loves all his giraffes equally.
If you have a photo of Sophie, please send to me at Abaskmktg@yahoo.com. If we can’t track her down, perhaps we could at least follow her travels.