Spontaneous generation of stuffed animals

This story is about an unexplained increase in the population of stuffed animals in our house several years ago. I titled this piece the “spontaneous generation of stuffed animals.” But technically, stuffed animals appearing out of nowhere does not fit the definition of spontaneous generation. That definition requires that live organisms emerge from non-living matter. But, in reality stuffed animals can be more alive and smarter than the average person. I mean I have never heard a stuffed animal say something stupid. So, I stand by my title.

My wife, Adele, and I moved to Columbia, Missouri in 2003 with our two golden retrievers, Tahoe and Shasta. We lucked into purchasing a wonderful house on 10 acres and a beautiful, small artificial lake, named “Sundance” that was designed for water skiing. We don’t water ski, but we still loved cooling off in the lake. More importantly, our dog Tahoe must have surely thought she had died and gone to heaven when she arrived at the house.

We adopted Tahoe as a retired breeder from White Dove kennels while the movers were packing up our house in Reno. After a 500-mile journey with me from rural California to Reno, she stayed one night in our house and then lived in the back of our car for the next week or so as we transitioned to Missouri. The back of the car was heaven for Tahoe, as were hotel rooms along the way.

Unlike me, Tahoe was chill. I mean she was the canine version of Jerry Garcia only that she loved to swim instead of writing and playing music. And although she didn’t sing the song Terrapin Station, she loved turtles. She would go into the woods and return with a huge smile and a turtle in her mouth. Well, she did for several years until she met a snapping turtle.

When we adopted Tahoe, we had no idea how much she loved to swim. We found out when we let her off the leash in the Great Salt Desert, just west of Salt Lake City, to go to the bathroom, as we made our way from Reno to Columbia. She saw a pond of water a quarter of a mile away and effortlessly trotted towards the water. Her trot was effortless. But, getting her before she jumped in was not.

Our other golden retriever, Shasta, was also a retiree from White Dove kennels. Shasta was a typically wonderful golden retriever. But she did not inherit the “chill” gene, nor did she swim with the gusto of Tahoe. Shasta hid in the bathroom during thunderstorms. Tahoe never noticed the flashes of light, sound, or the rain. She was too busy being chill. Although Tahoe loved to carry around turtles, she wasn’t into much else other than swimming.

Shasta, Adele, Tahoe, and me on Pennsylvania Mountain outside of Fairplay Colorado

Shasta, on the other hand, loved to carry things around. The first day we left her alone in Reno, she carried all of Adele’s shoes out of the closet and lined them up in the living room. We viewed the fact that she simply carried the shoes out and lined them up, as opposed to chewing them up, as a sign from above that we made the right choice.

We discovered in Columbia that Shasta liked carrying around stuffed animals, too. So, we bought some for her.

A few years later, the stuffed animals seemed to multiply. It seemed that every day, for at least a month, a new stuffed animal or two would show up in our house. Most people probably would worry about that. But I was kind of oblivious. I mean, I liked stuffed animals. Shasta liked stuffed animals. So, all was right with the world. I never really asked myself, “where in the heck are these stuffed animals coming from?”

Shasta and Tahoe lived in golden retriever heaven. We had a doggy door from the kitchen into the garage and then a doggy door from the garage to outside. Both Adele and I worked, so they had the run of the place all day. Tahoe would go swimming every day, no matter what. Shasta would hang out with whatever she was carrying around that day. They were free to roam around the property to their heart’s content. And they would usually be in the driveway waiting for us when we got home in the evening.

But, after a couple of years, Shasta didn’t want to leave the place. In order to take her for a walk, we would need to drive her to our mailboxes a quarter a mile down the street and let her walk and run on the way back. Shasta had this sort of agoraphobia when the stuffed animals started to appear. So, we ruled out her going shopping for them while we were away at work. There also was no Amazon to order them from back then.

I was the vice chancellor for research at the University of Missouri at the time. I had to travel often to St. Louis and Kansas City, often for evening events. On those days, I would stay in a hotel after the event and then drive back to Columbia in the morning.

I stayed overnight in Kansas City after an event and drove back to Columbia in the morning. I was wearing a suit, and I spilled coffee all over me. The fact that I spilled coffee or food on myself was nothing special. But, on this day, it was bad enough that I felt the need to go home to change before going into work. That means it was really bad.

I arrived at the house in the late morning, surprising the dogs who didn’t expect me for several hours. I walked in the house and discovered they were having a party. A male golden retriever, named Range, was in the house visiting with his girlfriends Shasta and Tahoe. There was no humping going on, so I thought it was kind of cool.

Range lived across the lake and Range was a good swimmer. A light bulb went off in my head. I had an explanation for the growth in the stuffed animal population! Range, in love with his two girlfriends Tahoe and Shasta, would swim across the lake to court them with a new stuffed animal each day. Eureka!

I immediately called Range’s mom.

I said, “Hi Cindy, I just wanted you to know that Range is in my house.”

Cindy was a bit horrified. I told her not to worry. The dogs seemed to be having a good time and weren’t destroying anything. Why stop the party?

Then I asked Cindy, “By the way, does Range like stuffed animals?”

Cindy replied, “Yes, he loves them. We have a closet full of them.”

I said, “Well, not anymore.”

I then told Cindy about the stuffed animals appearing out of nowhere, and that Range must have been swimming across the lake with them to court Shasta. Cindy didn’t question this ridiculous explanation for the conundrum.

I called Adele and told her the story. And she, too, thought we had solved the mystery of the spontaneously generating stuffed animals.

Interestingly enough, the stuffed animals stopped multiplying after that day.

Then, one day, a brand-new sneaker appeared in the house. We thought that Range must have really upped his game. But the sneaker was brand new and we were concerned that Cindy probably didn’t want to go running with only one shoe.

Adele tried to call Cindy, but she wasn’t home. So, Adele drove to the other side of the lake and dropped the sneaker off at Cindy’s house so her other sneaker could be reconnected with its mate.

It turned out that the sneaker was not Cindy’s. We were perplexed.

Later, Adele ran into our next-door neighbor, Ardith, who lived a few acres away. Adele told Ardith the story of Range and the stuffed animals along with the story of the homeless sneaker. Much to Adele’s surprise, Ardith had wondered where that sneaker had run off to. She was happy to be reunited with it. It also turned out that she had wondered where all of the stuffed animals had run off to. She was happy to recover them, ruining Shasta’s day.

We had assumed that Shasta, given her agoraphobia, was not leaving her territory to find stuffed animals. But we were wrong.

It turns out that every day after we went to work, while Tahoe was swimming, Shasta made her way a few hundred yards to Ardith’s house. There, in the mudroom, was the home to Ardith’s collection of stuffed animals for her dogs. It was also where the sneaker was hanging out the day it disappeared.

Much to our surprise, the solution to the spontaneous generation of stuffed animals was far less complicated than Range’s futile attempts to court our dogs. Shasta was apparently feigning her agoraphobia to avoid unnecessary walks or snapping turtles. When we were gone, Shasta went out hunting for stuffed animals, next door.

Perhaps Shasta was trying to court Range to visit with a new stuffed animal every day. And, when that supply ran out, a sneaker was the next best thing.

Tahoe, of course, knew this all along. She was just too busy being chill or swimming in the lake to let us know.

This story is true. Although spontaneous generation was not the explanation for population growth in a stuffed animal population in our house, the story showed that humans don’t necessarily have any more problem-solving capability than a stuffed animal or a brand-new sneaker. So, there might be an argument to be made that stuffed animals could spontaneously generate just as impossibly as mice or humans, since they can be just as smart as animate beings.

Tahoe swimming in Lake Sundance