You may wind up plotting the disappearance of a giant stuffed raccoon.

The Story:  Sometimes, a patient just can't be saved.  This giant stuffed raccoon probably started his days in a carnival game booth, but he made his way to the library after his useful life in a child's playroom was over.  Here, he was loved and played with and cherished by so many tiny hearts and hands.  This raccoon was a favorite the day he appeared in the play house.  But you know what they say:  "The candle that burns brightest burns shortest".  And so it was for our dear friend Raccoon.  His first injury was sustained after less than a month in the preschool area, but luckily our wonderful stuffed animal veterinarian was able to fix him up.  Not two weeks later, he had another injury, and was bleeding tiny foam beads all over the place.  Doctor Becka again to the rescue.  This pattern continues for the better part of nine months, until one day his injuries are so severe that he'll never recover.

As we lay the beloved raccoon to rest, we realize that we cannot just toss him in the already-full dumpster in broad daylight, top hat poking out for all the children to see as their parents pull into the parking lot.  This would cause an uproar.  So a plan is made, and with the assistance of the head custodian, we dispose of the body in the dead of night the following week.  The dumpster's been freshly emptied, and there is a cart of rejected booksale donations to go on top, covering up the dastardly deed.  For several days following the Raccoon's disappearance, we get questions from children about "When will Raccoon be back from the stuffed animal hospital?", and with an uneasy glance to the side counter behind which he rests while awaiting burial, we give a range of answers, none of them the whole truth.

The Lesson:  In a profession based on truth-seeking, sometimes a white lie is necessary.  When possible, we tried to tell the parents in some euphemistic way that the raccoon wasn't coming back, and thus let them have the conversation with their children at a time that they can handle it because they aren't running from storytime to toddler yoga to the grocery store.  Eventually, the kids stopped asking about the raccoon, and none seem traumatized, so mission accomplished.

Resources:  What kind of resources are there even in existence for this type of thing?  For librarians dealing with this situation, I don't know, probably not many.  But for parents, there are a host of good children's books dealing with getting rid of an old blanket or worn-out stuffed animal, so these might come in handy in your library if you're ever dealing with a similar situation.

Jonathan and the big blue boat / Philip C. Stead.
Blanket and bear, a remarkable pair / by L.J.R. Kelly ; illustrated by Yoko Tanaka
Franklin's blanket / Paulette Bourgeois, Brenda Clark
Too many toys! / Heidi Deedman
The velveteen rabbit, or, How toys become real / by Margery Williams
Maya's blanket / story, Monica Brown ; illustrations, David Diaz
The red woolen blanket / Bob Graham
Geraldine's blanket / Holly Keller
Turtle and me / Robie H. Harris ; illustrated by Tor Freeman

And if the child is really that upset, the parent might want to treat the loss of this toy like an actual death in the family, and there are a ton of children's books on that topic.  One I love that could be taken literally or figuratively is about a boy whose robot just keeps slowing down until it stops.  This is a grieving book for children about death, but since it is about a robot/toy, it may resonate with children missing their much-loved toy that just couldn't be saved.

Rafa was my robot / by Alexandra Dellevoet ; art by Ken Turner