Preservation vs. Decay, Part Two: The Subtle Art of Recapturing Your Childhood

I can't stop myself from browsing eBay to try to find the bath time puppy toy with the fluffy plush ears that I used to play with every day when I was a kid. I stupidly sold him at a garage sale when I was older so that I could earn some makeup money. I needed white eyeliner more than I needed him at the time because white eyeliner was more aligned with the goals of a teenager.

I keep trying to find the puppy on eBay, but it's been so difficult to find because I don't know what he was originally called, and I only have that vague picture of him in my mind…

I search eBay for “plush plastic puppy vintage bath toy,” but nothing looks right. I click on some of the listings anyway.

As I scroll through the photographs of damage, paint rubs, and stray marks in each listing, I wonder if I even really want some filthy old puppy toy full of other kid’s bath time grime? I would be more comfortable with my own childhood grime, of course, but the likelihood of finding my actual puppy toy online is slim to none. Even if I was able to find the exact one I grew up with, I wouldn't know the difference anyway. I also can't ignore the fact that repurchasing a bath time puppy toy doesn't really align with my goals as an adult.

Whether or not I plan to purchase something similar, in the end, my old plush plastic puppy vintage bath toy will probably end up outliving both me and its new owner(s) because plastic is more permanent than flesh. I passed through my plush plastic puppy toy’s life just for a brief moment in the scheme of his existence. And he doesn't even have the capacity to remember me. Oh, what a beautifully strange world that we exist in together…

This is the puppy. I found the puppy. I do not need the puppy. I will not be purchasing the puppy. Pinkie promise!