First, she found a stray oval of cardboard in the snack aisle. Then a green twist tie in produce. Somewhere near the cheese section, my 7 year-old had made them into a Ninja Puppy, using my pen to make a sweet face. We had this precious new friend for a mere 10 minutes. Then tragedy struck.

We don’t know what happened. Ninja puppy simply disappeared. We looked everywhere – under the wire shelves, every corner of the grocery cart, even my purse. After retracing the circular path of our cart about 40-eleven times, I was ready to move on. My daughter…not so much.

She started crying. We searched some more. She refused to leave the area where she last saw the puppy. When I finally forced her to come with me her face got red and she began wailing, “Where could my Ninja Puppy be?!” The other shoppers were mystified. I offered her a treat – candy, even! – but the only treat she wanted was her Ninja Puppy. By the time we left she had been in mourning for 20 minutes for a 10-minute handmade friend.

There were shaky sobs all the ride home. Fifteen minutes of sobbing. “It is so unfair. Mommy, it is your fault she is missing! I wish I could live at the grocery store and look for Ninja puppy all day and all night. What if someone stole it from our cart?” Yes, I bet someone looked at our cart and my purse and thought the best thing to take was your toy made from grocery store scraps. That must be it.

When we got home, she added a postscript to her Santa letter, hoping he could help resolve the situation. I sure hope so, there is no other outcome than oblivion for that paper pup.

I have a fantasy that someone will find Ninja Puppy between two bags of chopped kale and recognize her for the treasure she is. Maybe that person will even return her to us after reading the signs my daughter is now making offering a $100 reward . Or, if you don’t want that $50.