[ WP ] Write of a happy reunion between an adult and their childhood toy .

`` Dave?'' The patchy bean-bag beaver wheezed and squinted up at me with eyes so pale and milky they were almost grey. 
 
 The faux-fur was matted and falling off even as I watched, softly dropping like purple snow onto the attic floor. In one of his shaking yellows paws, my old beaver pal clutched a long splinter of wood that he leaned on heavily as he hobbled forward. 
 
 The ragged corners of the seam-line that divided his face in half arced upward into a smile. `` Dave, that is you!'' But his excitement cost him and he began to hoarsely cough. 
 
 I did n't know what to say. I opened my mouth to speak, but I had no words. I knelt and held my hands out to cradle Squeaky, my best beaver friend from when I was four years old. 
 
 Now that he was a little closer, his pale eyes seemed to clear and return to the powder blue they originally were. I brushed my thumb across his cheek and felt the familiar softness of his purple fabric. 
 
 `` Squeaky... my buddy,'' I choked, finally. `` Squeaky, I'm... I'm so sorry.'' 
 
 `` Sorry? My friend, whatever for?'' One corner of his seam stayed tilted up in a cheeky smile and he continued before I had the chance to start bawling. `` Now now, you're not really going to apologize for growing up, are you?'' He laid a tattered yellow paw on my thumb, still against his cheek. `` Dave, I'm proud of who are you. You have nothing to apologize about.'' 
 
 I could n't take it and let out a sob. `` But Squeaky, look at you! You're falling apart, how could I let this happen?'' But Squeaky did n't look nearly as bad as he had when I first picked him up out of the dark corner. His purple fur that seemed to be all but fallen off still had a beautiful sheen, despite years of neglect in this cold attic. Even his yellow paw was n't as frayed as I thought. Actually, there were n't even any tears or loose threads. 
 
 `` Dave, all these years and you never realized.'' Squeaky let out a little chuckle, but a strong chuckle. His throat sounded much clearer now that he was away from the dust. 
 
 `` Squeaky, I'm taking you downstairs, where it's clean and lit and warm. You'll-'' but Squeaky cut me off. 
 
 `` Dave, my friend, it is n't the attic that did this to me!'' The beaver cast aside the five-inch long splinter and strode boldly up to my elbow, then climbed up to my shoulder to look me squarely in the face. `` Dave, it's you. It's your love and your attention that sustains me. When you think of me, I feel strong! And when I feel weak...'' He smiled and with his strong, yellow paws turned my head to a hole in the attic floor. `` You see what's down there? Dave, that's your son. When I feel weak, I look down there. And I see you, with your son. And I feel happy. Because even though you're not thinking of your own childhood, you're thinking of his.'' 
 
 I stared at the little hole in the floor. Then I turned back to Squeaky. His body was like-new. The purple fur shone beautifully, even in the dim attic lighting. His eyes sparkled, just like I remembered them. His two buck-teeth were the most pristine white I could imagine. Then finally I smiled. 
 
 `` Squeaky, there is someone I'd like to introduce you to.''
