There is a corpse in my trashcan.  It’s not as morbid as it sounds.  Dora the Explorer has finally, sadly been sullied one too many times by our misbegotten Alpha Cat.  He was, most likely, a dog in a previous life, and never quite made the transition.  So Miss Dora, rest her soul, was resigned to the garbage bin in very much the same furtive fashion as one might dispose of the corpse of a neighbors prize poodle.

 

But now, every time I open the lid, I catch a glimpse of two pink fabric feet and I feel a stab of guilt.  Like the man in Poe’s classic “The Telltale Heart” I can almost imagine it asking me to save it.  My daughter has outgrown the nearly lifesize plushy character, but I still would rather have passed her on to another worthy home.  She was simply unsaveable, no amount of washing in various chemicals seemed to take away the foul tang of cat urine.  I just could not, in good conscience, pass the well-loved doll onto another family knowing the foul provenance that came with it.

 

So when the trash-man cometh, I will say a prayer for the plush pink toes and the wide eyed beatific smile of my daughters favorite toy, and hope that, somewhere out there, there is a place for all those happy memories to reside.