Littlest friends do the most amazing things

[This story first appeared as a newspaper column nearly four years ago. Since it first was published, Gumbo again went on walkabout. When he came back, he'd grown (see the second picture, below) -- but so had Patrick.]

A giraffe called Gumbo is my 4-year-old son's best friend. They're inseparable.

Well, almost.

A couple of months ago, Gumbo went missing. Patrick was sure he was in the car or maybe under the bed or at school. When the 10-inch-high stuffed animal didn't turn up, Patrick's mother assured him that Gumbo was likely on a trip - perhaps visiting relatives in another city.

"Missing" signs went up around her office, at our son's day care center, even around the neighborhood.

Gumbo didn't come home.

A few weeks went by and Patrick still asked after his giraffe every day. Patrick's mom implemented a contingency plan; she had located an identical giraffe at a toy store across town and one day at lunch she bought it.

When she presented Gumbo to our boy, he hugged the animal and then said: "Why is he so clean?"

Well ... he must have taken a bath.

My boy didn't like the clean Gumbo quite as much as the well-worn version that had disappeared. A conversation ensued about liking our friends no matter how they look.

Once over that crisis, Patrick decided Gumbo must indeed have been visiting family somewhere. The giraffe's parents live in France - Gumbo was born there, but has lived in this country for quite some time.

He simply forgot to call or send a postcard and let us know where he was. Gumbo has two brothers, as it turns out, who look just like him.

That's handy, because if the "real" Gumbo ever turns up, someone will have some explaining to do.

It's amazing what these little animals are capable of. In addition to being able to navigate long distances, my son's giraffe talks (sign language, don't you know - apparently hooves are no impediment to communication) and even has distinct preferences when it comes to things like peas versus spinach, and what video he'd like to see next.

He likes to be hugged and kissed good night, and has to have the covers tucked up to his chin when he goes to sleep.

Even though he'll always be too little to drive, Gumbo plans to be a fire fighter when he grows up. Not coincidentally, so does Patrick.

A co-worker's son, about the same age as Patrick, had a bad night last week because his plush "Puppy" kept him up all night barking.

Bad dog.

Madeleine, a calico cat that was once my boy's constant companion, now spends most of her time snoozing in a corner of his room. She's not nearly as playful as when she was a kitten but I suppose that's only natural for cats as they grow older.

The aptly named "Pony," like Gumbo, is a traveler. Pony rode off into the sunset about the same time as Gumbo and hasn't been seen since.

Lately, Gumbo sports a snug-fitting, green kitty collar with a tag etched: "Gumbo" and his home phone number. Given his penchant for wandering, it seemed prudent.

Last week, Gumbo disappeared again after a trip to Walgreen's. A return visit turned-up nothing and it appeared he may have been giraffe-napped while my son's attention strayed. Or, perhaps, he had gone visiting again.

A couple of days after Gumbo's most recent disappearance, the phone rang.

A kindergarten teacher at a nearby school had purchased a number of stuffed animals for her class. As she was sorting them she noticed that one had a collar. An odd touch, she thought, and checked her receipt.

No giraffe listed there, so she called the number. And Gumbo came home.