The Plush Lion

Mr. Lion sat slumped against the rail of the park bench where Caitlynn had left him. She ran with her friends and swung on the squeaky swings that hurt his ears. She didn’t bring him here as often as she used to, but he loved the park, even the squeaky swings. Watching her laugh and play brought him great joy. His great stuffing filled chest would feel warm seeing her happy and laughing. There was always that thought though, he wished he could play with her like they did.

“Let’s go to my house,” Brandi called over the playground, “I got a new easy bake oven.”

“Let’s make brownies.” Caitlynn said as she hopped off the swing landing less than gracefully, but on her feet at least.

Mr. Lion thought about the smell of brownies; he couldn’t eat them, but they smelled good. He waited patiently while she grabbed her coat from the ground beside the bench and waited for the falling sensation in his stomach as she picked him up, but it did not come.

“Hey, Brandi, wait for me.” Caitlynn shouted and ran to catch up with her friend.

Mr. Lion waited. Surely, she would turn around, but as he watched her getting smaller and smaller down the street his hope faded, but she’d be back. Of course, she would be back. She’d left him on a bench once before and he remembered how happy she had been to find him and of course how happy he had been that she had.

“Ollie Ollie Oxen free!” someone shouted from behind him and children popped out of hiding behind trees, garbage cans, or bushes.

“Its cold,” said a man to the kids, “What do you kiddos think about some hot chocolate and a movie?”

General murmurs of agreement came from the children.

More parents called for their kids and left. His plastic nose was frozen and the earliest of frosts was settling in his mane. He couldn’t even shiver to shake it off. The park lights came on as darkness fell and it was eerily silent. Mr. Lion pined for Caitlynn’s warm arms or even the warm loneliness of his place on her bed. The place he should be right now, where he’d much rather be.

Small cold things began to hit him, it reminded him of the time Caitlynn had spilled cherry soda on him and her mom had cleaned him with sharp smelling soaps in the kitchen sink. He wished he could bury his cold nose in his paws, but they lay uselessly in front of him. He tried anyway, but only real lions could move on their own and he wasn’t real yet. He didn’t know if he wasn’t trying hard enough or if Caitlynn didn’t love him enough anymore. Once he had felt close to real, when she came home from school everyday and did her homework while telling him all about what she had done.

His plastic eyes were fixed on the distance as he remembered a story Caitlynn’s mom had once read to them. He was no velveteen rabbit, but he was a plush lion with a little sewn heart inside and that had to count for something, certainly not only rabbits became real.

“Hoo oo hoo” an owl called from somewhere.

It would be a long night, long like the nights Caitlynn went to camp without him. Long and cold and wet, but he would wait, what else could he do? She would be back in the morning to get him. She had to be.

Morning came and went in a smattering of rain and rushes of wind. Few people came to the park. By noon Mr. Lion was silently begging for any of these people to notice him, to touch him. He pictured Caitlynn picking him up.

“I’m sorry Mr. Lion, let’s get you warmed up” she’d say and begin rubbing the frost from his mane, then hug him tightly.

“Someone must have left it.” A voice broke into his thoughts.

A woman and young boy stood near the bench.

“Can I keep it?”

“No, honey we don’t know where its been, its dirty, and besides someone might want it back.” She roughly picked Mr. Lion up and prodded him, pulling at his baseball cap and the tag near his tail. “No name, hmmm.” She slapped him a few times knocking the bits of ice loose and sending a small cloud of crystals into the air. “Let’s put him here.”

Mr. Lion swung from her hand as she walked across the playground and set him up on a mounted wooden box with a glass front. It might once have had books in it, but now, just an empty soda can and a cigarette butt. It wasn’t any warmer, but it was a better view. Well, better if there were any children in playground at least.

It continued to rain that day and Mr. Lion could feel the water soaking through his plush fur and deep into his stuffing making him feel heavy and limp. It ran in small waterfalls off his ballcap and onto the woodchips that padded the playground. The rain dripped down his fuzzy cheeks like the tears he wanted to cry. So lonely, so cold, so wet. If Caitlynn came back now would she even want him? The woman had said he was too dirty for her son. Was he too dirty for Caitlynn too?

The sun was only half visible on the horizon as he heard footsteps and his stuffing heart soared.

“Well, do you know where you left him?”

“On the bench, I think, but he’s not there.”

“Let’s look around a little bit.”

Mr. Lion focused on the direction of the voices willing them to see him in his high precarious perch. If his little heart could beat it would have been pounding out of his chest.

“Look, look there he is.” Caitlynn’s mom said, she sounded more tired than excited.

“Mr. Lion! There you are.” She whipped him down and hugged him.

“Okay, good, let’s go.” Her mother said, “He’s really dirty now though.”

“You can clean him, right? You did before.” She squeezed the sopping Mr. Lion tightly against her. “I’m sorry, Mr. Lion, we’ll get you cleaned up when we get home I promise.”

As she carried him toward the car his little chest filled once again with warmth, and he was almost grateful for his waterlogged stuffing as a happy tear leaked out of him.