Recently, Flop, of my beloved Flip Flops, went missing. It was a favorite--midnight black, two rows of tiny rhinestones up each side of the plastic 'v'.
I looked at our Golden Retriever, Jake, sleeping on top of our bed -- my number one suspect. He usually eats Rick's things. His wreck and chew history includes a ratty, over the hill jogging Nike and newly repaired leather handle gnawed right off a piece of luggage. Eating the handle wouldn't have been so bad except it took Rick weeks to decide if the garment bag merited saving -- it must have been thirty years old. But once the decision to repair was made, we expected the trusty old bag might even outlast us.
Then a few short weeks ago, Jake nuzzled his nose into an orange bag, pulling out a signed A's baseball and chewed away. By the time we found the ball--full of slime and saliva--it looked as though it never had white leather nor red string holding it together. As he lounged in the dining room mucking up the last of the string, I grabbed it out of his mouth and chucked it in the garbage.
Anyway, Jake's preferences seemed to be for leather so I thought perhaps Ms Flop cleared his list of favorites. Nonetheless, I grabbed a flashlight and checked his haunts along with the rest of the house -- toy chest, the workout room, under beds and sofa. I had worn my flip and flops within the last 48 hours and some of the places I checked I hadn't visited in days~make that weeks.
The more I pitched sofa pillows and rummaged a stack of clothes for Good Will, I convinced myself that Jake the Dog ate Flop. I eyed him with great suspicion but he just looked at me like he always does -- dark chocolate eyes -- first to the left, then to the right, back again, tail wagging, occasional blink. Cute. I still thought he knew something I didn't, ahem, like the whereabouts of Flop.
This morning I threw a load of laundry into the mouth of our new front loading washing machine, the one that, combined with its matching dryer, looks like the control panel of a 747, slammed the door shut, filled the detergent thingie, and tapped the 'start' button.
Then I hear it. Yes, it is Flop taking her first shower, make that last shower--she came unglued--half of her rhinestones missing, half of them attached. I'm heartsick.
I like to think of myself as an optimist, so here's the good news ~ it's almost the end of our California summer, well, closer to the end than the beginning -- so new Flip Flops await....
Moral of the story? You can't always say the dog ate it and always check what goes into the washing machine before the door locks ....
Wanna write? Here's a PROMPT:
The last time I looked, it sat ....
When I'm not organized, here's what happens ...
fill in the blank by writing for 20 minutes ~have fun