Creamy is gone. Long live Creamy! UPDATED: STOP THE PRESSES!

This is a portrait we took of Creamy before Christmas to give to Henry as a present. I'm so glad we have it, because, alas, we no longer have Creamy.

Creamy was lost this morning as Erin and the kids did some running around in town. They searched everywhere. He's gone.

So many nights have we delayed bedtime as we've searched the house for this little dog. He has been dragged around the yard, rescued from beneath the couch dozens of times, and survived a couple of surgeries.

He was named Blackie when we first got him. Henry wasn't initially terribly fond of him, but he latched onto him as soon as we moved to Cape Breton. One day at Tim Horton's, a bit of coffee cream spilled on his leg, and he was Creamy ever since.

Henry shed a lot of tears this morning when he realized he was gone. Erin drove all over town, retracing their steps, but they couldn't find him. I hate the thought of that dog sitting in a puddle of slush on this cold, dark night.

But things aren't so bad, thanks to my co-worker Ty and his daughter Sadie.

Today, in my office.

Ty: I don't want to get your hopes up, but I think we may have a dog that looks just like Creamy.

Me: Really? Like, exactly?

Ty: I'm not 100% sure, but if it is, I'm sure Sadie would love Henry to have him. She went through a phase of loving those animals about a year ago, but has grown out of it.

A few hours later, he tweeted me this photo.

It's the exact dog.

As we drove out to Ty's place this evening, we came up with the story that made Henry feel better. Creamy went to the vet to fix some of his problems with stuffing, scratched eyes, and worn out nose. But he ran away. Lucky for us, he ran to Ty's place in Cove Head.

Henry made Sadie a thank-you card. When he met New Creamy he gave him a big hug, and everyone felt better. Until the car ride home. Erin caught Henry with tears in his eyes.

Erin: You OK, buddy?

He wiped his eyes.

Henry: I'm not crying. I just breathed in funny and it came out like crying.

He was fully crying when we got home. We talked about Old Creamy. We decided it wasn't the fur, or the stuffing, or the eyes, or the tail that made him special. It was the love that Henry gave him that made him special. And that if he gives that same love to New Creamy, then he won't be New Creamy at all, he'll just be Creamy.

Friggin' stuffed dog is making me cry. (and probably Erin)

UPDATE: STOP THE PRESSES!

The Superstore called about a half-hour before closing to say they'd found Creamy. The next day was Good Friday, so if I didn't get there right away, we'd be Creamy-less until Saturday. I sped all the way and did some serious negotiating to get past the doors as they were being locked for the night.

I got him

Henry was asleep when I got home, so I put him beside his head on his pillow. He awoke the next morning and flipped out.

Henry: He's everything good that makes Creamy Creamy.

Thus endeth the saga.