"His ears are missing and he's in a sad state so I don't know if anyone will buy him."
The garage sale where I overheard this conversation had some interesting items already - a washtub stand, a take-apart-in-two-minutes folding picnic table, an electric grill in what looked like a small refrigerator - so I had to inquire.
Well, he was a yellow giraffe "lying over there dead on the lawn."
I trotted over. He wasn't dead. He was just waiting on someone - like me - to revive him. Made of papier mache (by someone who knew what they were doing) he stands four feet tall and is indeed earless. And hornless - at least he has holes between the ears on top of head so I imagine he had little horns as well. Apparently the dog chewed these appendages off when he (I assume the dog but it was such an interesting family they might have meant the giraffe) was young.
"I had thoughts of turning him into a piñata," the lady told me and I turned my hold on the giraffe into a hug.
"Does he have a name?" I inquired.
"No, we just call him Giraffe," she replied. But I could hear the capital G so I knew he had been loved.
"The grandkids used to love getting up on the couch and then climbing on his back," she went on, giving me added information, which adds so much. "But they're too big now." She patted the scratches on Giraffe's nose; made me envision some delightful tumbles.
I paid her. I am not going to say how much.
A fair bit of conversation went into what kind of hat Giraffe needed to cover his affliction. A straw hat seemed the majority suggestion. But what kind. Mexican? A garden variety? I tend to think of donkeys perhaps carrying off a straw hat but a giraffe, particularly Giraffe, seemed to want something more dashing. I said I could knit something but everyone looked doubtful: I think they were imagining a floppy bonnet.
A lady who was holding a garage sale next door but who had wandered over and gotten involved in all this went back to her house and came over with a tiny straw hat and sold it to me for a dime. It covered three of the holes. She continued to worry about my having said that I might put him in the garden, had commented that he was "made of paper, isn't he?" and as I left she advised me to "put his feet on tiles or something to keep them above the ground."
Giraffe got the whole back seat to himself and looked quite perky. I didn't see anyone noticing my interesting passenger -darn. It would have been fun to share the fun.
I set him down in the living room and he looked right at home. The question of his obvious need of cosmetic, if not medical, attention brought about consideration of knitting ears and horns, or forming some out of paper, or just letting him be. After a considerable time just sitting and staring at him I remembered the hat I had made for Grandbaby which was too small for him even in his newborn state. The fact that it is black with a lining that is spotted may have been a factor in his NOT wearing it even if it had fit - but - it was obviously intended for a four foot Giraffe.
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