Two puppies

Several years ago, on the drive from Pittsburgh to my friend Susan's wedding in Kentucky, then year-old Myles and I stopped at a Barnes and Noble in Ohio. Barnes and Noble made convenient stops for me then. I could have a cup of coffee while Myles played trains and stretched his little cramped legs. The restrooms always had change tables. At lunch time we could have a sandwich.

This one time, though, Myles played only briefly with the trains and then switched his attention to playing with one stuffed puppy. He hugged it, snuggled it, and pretended it was licking his face. It was, of course, too terribly cute for words and without his even asking I bought it for him.

Sometime before his second birthday, this dog became his favorite stuffed animal. It became like Pooh was for Christoper Robin, a constant cuddly companion that also had a life of its own. After a short time being called Donald, the name was switched to Douglas. Both of these names were inspired by Thomas the Tank Engine (Scottish twin engines), though the switch happened when Myles recognized that there was a name on the dog's tag. It was the brand name, Douglas, and that is the name that stuck.

Douglas has been on many adventures, as one would expect. He has been to the beach a few times, to Harlem, and on every flight between Asia and the US we have taken. At one point Myles enjoyed telling me about Douglas' ten baby brothers and sisters that he was often charged with watching. They were invisible to me, but not to Myles. The craziest of these younger siblings was Jack; we often had to move to the right of the sidewalk to let him pass by us when he was speeding on his motorcycle. Myles would sometimes stop playing, and appear to stare at nothing in the corner of his room. When he was start laughing hysterically (at nothing?), I would ask him what was so funny. Then he would relate to me the hijinx of some number of Douglas' babies right then.

My favorite Douglas story happened at a Starbucks in Shenzhen in 2007. I was putting in my order, and Myles asked me to get a slice of zucchini loaf for Douglas. This bread Myles insisted several times before that he did not like, so I believed that he was using Douglas as an excuse to reconsider. I bought it for him, bringing the plate to the table and sitting it next to Douglas. Myles asked me to cut it up into smaller square pieces because that would help Douglas eat it. I obliged him, and left a fork on the plate for him. While I drank my coffee, and Myles drank his milk, the zucchini bread remained untouched. We needed to leave, so I asked Myles if he was going to eat what he ordered or if we were going to get a back to take it with us. He said, "Mommy, I ordered that for Douglas. You know I can't stand the taste of that."

That was the last time Douglas was allowed to order something for himself.

When Brigid came along, we acknowledged to Myles that we knew that Douglas was special to him. We prepared him to accept that he would be asked to share a lot (toys, space, Mommy) with our new baby, but he would never be expected to share Douglas. Those first few months, though, he kept insisting that Douglas wanted to be shared.

In the past year as Brigid has become more mobile, verbal, and willful, her insistence on sharing Douglas has at times stretched beyond her brother's generosity. It really started to become a problem when we were in the US last summer. However, since we were in the States, I thought a trip to Barnes and Noble might help us out of a jam. I showed Brigid the puppies that looked mostly like Douglas. I offered each one to her. She was surprisingly uninterested in them. I pulled one off the shelf, and then another, asking her each time, "Is this your puppy?"

Each time my question was met with a shake of the head and a sad, "no." Her eyes started to brim with frustrated tears and she continued to insist, "no," more forcefully each time. As she neared a total meltdown, I was ready to abandon this idea.

One last time I asked, "Is this your puppy?"

I was answered with a happily relieved nod of the head, "Yes!"

I asked her again, to be sure, "Is this your puppy? Have we found your puppy?"

She drew the stuffed dog to her, saying with even more enthusiasm than before, "Yes!"

For the past few months this puppy has been called Gou Gou, mandarin for "doggie." It may or may not be his name in the long run, but it is what she has called it from the beginning.

Gou Gou has not quite been singled out and awarded the constant companion status that Douglas had with Myles by the time he was two years old. Brigid's dog does enjoy some degree of privilege, as Brigid parrots Myles' own preference for his stuffed dog.

Myles has begun to show signs of outgrowing this dependence on Douglas. Brigid then likes to remind him that he should have his dog when she has hers. He, of course, willingly indulges her. He hasn't abandoned Douglas to the toy box. Not totally. Not yet.