I'm not sure how many would recognize him in his present state, something one of the boys left behind many years ago. Picked up by something else and used as a hockey puck.
A substitute for children long gone by another, yet lovingly carried around and talked to.
And then he laid in solitude. In the dust, immobile. Sometimes short bursts of being batted around and, then just as sudden as it began, it would stop. And then he laid alone, abandoned, waiting for the next time.
Sometimes he would hear, "Look what I found behind the chair!" But then he was always put in a box with others. Silent, forlorn, waiting
Until one winter day he felt a small cold nose gingerly smell him. He felt something wet down his back and then, oh so gently...he was picked up.
He was put on something soft. It was bright being out of the box and something soft and furry lay beside him. He was loved. He was carried everywhere and no one else was allowed to touch him. He spent the night with his new friend and sometimes was taken outside.
He couldn't be a bounty hunter any more now that his hands and feet were gone and his face scarred beyond recognition but, he didn't care. He was loved.......
by her. Unconditional love.
