I just had a horrible thought brought on by posting in this thread earlier.
When I was really little, I remember having a red stuffed monkey I named Boo-Boo that I had with me constantly. I was so young that I don't ever remember NOT having Boo-Boo, so I must have been about 4 or 5 when this happened. My mom and Dad were about to take us on some kind of family outing, which we hardly ever got to do. My parents didn't let us take our toys when we went somewhere, so when it was time to leave I guess I forgot about Boo-Boo and left him sitting on our porch steps.
Well, we were gone all day, and by the time we got home It had begun pouring down rain by the buckets full. When we were nearly home, I remembered Boo-Boo and started to worry. So when we got home, I rushed over to the steps...but... Boo-Boo was so old that that torrential rain had DISSOLVED him into just a pile of red fur shreds and stuffing...and his little plastic face was just lying there..
I was a wreck for days. Of course my Mom and Dad got me a new stuffed buddy, and of course I hated it, although I didn't tell them that.