I hear the slow-paced footsteps progressively growing louder and louder as they are about to reach the door that leads to the messy storage room, where I am stuffed into a large cardboard box with many others just like me. There is no space to move in this place that I call home since there are so many of us fluffy, colorful, stuffed animals, stuck in the same position. I am really uncomfortable and probably will be for the rest of my life if I do not escape soon. It is usually pitch black dark in the storage room, so imagine being shoved into a box on top of that. There is no light until...the footsteps; they have stopped. The door begins to slowly swing open and I hear a conversation, along with laughing. The lights are about to turn on.

Click.

The little bit of light that I receive shines through the top of the box, right into my eyes.

“MY EYES,” he quickly cried.

This is where I used to let my hope rise higher than the clouds in the sky that I once saw when I peeked out of the top of the box when I was being transported to this place that I have yet had a chance to fully see. I don’t allow myself to do that anymore because it is never me. It is always the shake puppets, the bubble wands, or the puffer fish. The gleam of light starts to grow brighter and brighter. I look up and the lid of the box, the roof of my home, is completely opened. It’s a bit blurry, but I see a brown-haired girl standing there with a smile on her face. This time I can not control my hope as it increases rather quickly. This kind-looking girl reaches down in the box and lays her hand on me. She squeezes my paw as she grabs me to lift me up and out of my home. It is finally happening. I am going to experience what I have always wanted. I have been told many great stories about how well I will be treated by a person, usually young, and how much love and care I will receive. This strange girl who I now consider my hero holds me tight and exists the storage room.

I close my eyes because I want to surprise myself, but then my thoughts started rolling in.

“Oh no, what if it is not what I am expecting? I don’t want to be disappointed. This has been my dream pretty much my whole life.”

I keep my eye closed. I hear all the laughter, yelling, and talkative people. I begin to sniff after a whiff of chicken tenders hit me. I begin to smell the pizza, the honey mustard, macaroni and cheese, the mozzarella sticks; the scent of them all just knock me over. Sadly, the scent of all the delicious food soon fades away. How could I be sad?

I feel the girl, my hero, now standing still. I feel her arms unwrap from around me. She sets me down on a cold, metal shelf. I feel snug. I finally decide to open up my eyes. I look to the  left and then to the right. I am in between two others who look exactly like me: tie dye, bright, pink, yellow, crazy hair, fluffy, soft, and a lion. I am a tie-dye lion, a pretty cool one if you ask me. Of course, I do not have a name because whoever buys me has the honor of naming me. For now, I am known as the tie-dye lion. This place is full of color, laughter, and these weird contraptions that children are jumping up and down on. I read the word “Cowabungas” everywhere. I am guessing that is the name of this place, but I am unsure. I have never felt more at home, though. I feel like I fit in well. I am right in the front as bright as the sun when it rises on a warm summer day, so these children can not miss me. Now, I sit here and look pretty, waiting for someone to purchase me. I am out of the box; I can smell more than just the scent of dust. I can hear more than just the shuffling through boxes and the door swinging open then close again, and I can see more than just darkness.

At first, I enjoy all of the attention and compliments, but after sitting here and being touched and stared at for about three hours, I begin to feel a little creepy. I would say, at least there is music, but they play the same songs over and over again. I do not understand!

As I continue to pose, thinking of the repetitive song choices, a child runs over towards me. He stands there with curious, big, blue eyes. He turns his head from side to side, making funny faces at me. He picks me up. Many other children swiftly run up to him. All these children end up sitting in a shape, but what shape was it? Oh, a circle, you know the round one, with me right in the center. They all throw me around, squeezing me to the point where I can not breathe, and passing me along from one child to another.

Even though they can not hear me, I suggest, “Your parents must be looking for all of you; maybe you should go check in with them.”

This is continuous for about twenty minutes. Nothing will stop these wild animals besides a game. An announcement blares that a game of Simon Says will be played in the middle of the open gym. Within a blink of an eye, the children are gone and I lie here, tired and wanting to go back home, back to the dark storage room in the box where I was safe.

I close my eyes, and soon feel a familiar touch. I flutter my eyes open and it is her, the girl who took me out of the box. She flings her arms around me once again, brushes the dirt off, and places me back on the shelf.

Before turning away, she whispers, “Rough day, huh? Well, it’s almost over, don’t worry.”

It’s almost over; I can do this. Everyone has a rough first day somewhere at some point and this is mine. Maybe my day will end well. After finding me on the floor, the girl checks on me every now and then to make sure I am still displayed comfortably on the shelf. The place is clearing out and I couldn’t be more relieved. If someone doesn’t buy me today then I don’t know how long it will take. Will it be days, weeks, years?  

As I sit here overthinking and relaxing, a little girl calmly strolls by with a frown upon her face and takes a double look at me. I feel a panic attack developing; I don’t want to be throw around again! She wears black leggings, a light blue blouse with a white bow on the back, twinkle toes on her feet, and her dirty blonde hair up in a curly ponytail. She calls her mom over. Her mom looks at me and tells her that I am cute. The little girl, maybe four years old, is kneeling down, pointing at me and begging her mom to buy me. Her name is said by her mom after the word “no” leaves her mouth. Peyton. Peyton is her name. Peyton is telling her that she will take good care of me for a really long time. I sit up straight, looking presentable, and hoping that her mom caves. In the middle of her begging, her mom puts her hand on her shoulder and pulls her aside. I can no longer hear what they are discussing. Peyton glances at me then back to her mom again. She skips to me, almost tripping, reaching her arms out as long as she can for me and I can’t help but laugh with excitement.

“Did the day finally come?”

I am in her arms and Peyton hugs me tight, not letting go. Peyton delivers me a soft kiss on my forehead and whispers to me that her mom said, “Next time.” What does that mean? She sets me down, makes sure I am comfortable, and waves to me. I am confused on why she put me down. She trudges out of the exit, looking back at me. I observe her leaving while I stay here wishing her mom said yes.

There are no more conversations, no more laughters or screams from children. The only sounds that I hear are from the workers cleaning and occasionally a few giggles. I am left, snuggled between two other lions, with my own thoughts.

“The day may never come.”

That one thought cycles around and around in my head. My dream of being bought and named may never happen. I am a tie-dye lion who simply wants to be given a name. I am so lost in my thoughts that I do not notice that a lot of the employees have left, all but three. One of those three is the girl; I see her.

Sliding towards me with her tired self, she leans down and fixes the shelf. She returns some of the other toys back to where they belong and picks up the wrappers left behind. She leans back down but this time in front of me, smiles, and pats me on the head.

She stands up, glancing at me from afar, and when I say that, I mean the front desk which, stands probably six feet away from me. I hear her typing on the iPad screen then grabbing her coat. She peeks behind her where those contraptions sit then this colorful place called Cowbungas soon goes dark.