Oh no. Oh, friends. The worst thing has happened.
Moonie is lost.

Well, not lost. He is somewhere. And knowing him he is having a wonderful adventure with whomever he went home with at Pronk!

We’d enjoyed the most wonderful set by Les Vilains Chicots who’d come all the way from Paris, and then we hopped to the hurricane barrier to catch the end of New Creations Brass Band. Moonie was peeking out of the front pocket of my little pocketbook, his favorite spot to see the world (and show off his sparkly little face). He’d ridden in that same pocket many times, snug and secure. But he also knew that his favorite local street marching band, Extraordinary Rendition Band, would be going on in minutes, to be followed by his other favorite local street marching band, What Cheer? Brigade, and he must have been leaning out in excitement. I remember hearing his teeny little voice squealing in joy as we arrived at the barrier. I patted his sheep-like little pink head and merged into the crowd. It was tight, as everyone was crammed in to catch as much music as possible, and we had to brush by some folks to make our way up close, and a lot of folks brushed by us in return.

That’s when Moonie disappeared.

I looked everywhere between everyone’s feet, afraid my little dude would get stepped on, but he was nowhere to be found. Knowing him, he immediately found someone to start chatting to right away. “Hi! I’m Moonie! Pronk! is so fun! I made this shirt! Do you like Extraordinary Rendition Band? Do you like cookies? Want to hear a joke?”

He’s cute and personable, an irresistible combination. I looked all around during ERB’s and What Cheer’s sets thinking my excited little dude had found a way to crawl up and into a sousaphone (he’s always wanted to find out what the music sounds like from inside while one is playing; the dude has tough little ears), but no sign of my pink-loving pal. I think he’d already made a friend and decided to have a new adventure.

I came back to the Pronk! site again early this morning, patrolling Fox Point in case my dude had gotten separated from his new pal(s) during the night. In contrast to the sunny day and beautiful evening Pronk! had enjoyed, it was gray and raining and completely deserted. My fellow volunteers had done a great job of gathering up all the trash after hours, and this scrap of sweater was the only evidence of the color and joyful noise and thousands of attendees and scores of performers from the night before.

But it wasn’t the pink I was looking for.

Come home, Moonie. I know you’re having fun wherever you are, but we have a lot more adventures in store together.