We have a cat that adopted us. No, really, she came to our door, just a tiny kitten in the cold winter snow, and wouldn't take no for an answer. Not that *I* was going to let anyone say no to her.
That was a year ago, and today that scrawny kitten is a full grown cat with one little kitten of her own. Oh yes, she carries around a little pegasaurus, ahem, I mean, Pegasus-Unicorn. My children call them pegasauruses.
Today, I caught her merling like the soft sad cry of someone that has lost something dear, like a mother mourning a lost child. In her paws, she had the pegasaurus. She looked up with me with sad eyes, as if to say, "Why doesn't it get up and walk? Why doesn't it play with me?"
I tried to comfort, but I don't think she believed me. This wasn't the first time I caught her making that noise to the same stuffed animal.