Why I Owe My Dog A Couple Grand

You could call me a forgetful person. I lose my keys about 7 times a day. You could also call me unorganized. My car is reminiscent of the houses on Hoarders. Last but not least, you could call me frazzled. I'm usually running late and have an "am I wearing pants?" look on my face.

But I'm not irresponsible. Except for the time I accidentally threw my debit card in the trash. Or the time I drove away with my iPhone on the roof of my car. Or the time I left my purse in my seat at a basketball game (In my defense, I was drunk for the last one....wait, does that make it worse?)

So maybe I am irresponsible. That's why it was really no surprise when I looked down at my hand last Sunday afternoon and saw this:


Sheer panic. Then sheer relief. We had a lifetime warranty. Back to dread: the place where Rob bought it closed last year. A return to relief: we have insurance on it. But that's if the whole ring is lost or stolen. It was an emotional roller coaster made worse by a 3-year-old who claimed "I found it" four different times only to come up empty-handed all four times. (Let's hope she never plays BINGO!)

We searched our floor, but figured it could be anywhere as I'd been to church and a basketball game earlier that day (and remembered to take my purse with me this time thankyouverymuch.) I thought it may have fallen out when I carried Bernie Jr. back to the car.

30 pounds of dead weight!

Basically, I resigned myself to the fact it was probably long gone.

For some weird reason, I never cried, which is very unlike a girl who tears up at the end of every Modern Family episode. It may have been because the baby was sick and I didn't have the energy or maybe I was secretly happy for once it wasn't my fault something had gone missing (see above).

That diamond is special to me, for reasons I plan to blog about later this month. The thought of replacing it sickened me, so I did what any normal person would do: ignored the situation. I didn't call our insurance company. I didn't research how to get it replaced. I did a whole lotta nothing.

Fast forward to Tuesday (yes, pretend my life is on DVR) and there I was playing with the babe, when Howie brought me a toy. Seriously, Howie...cancha see I'm busy. But I did as I always do for the pup who doesn't get enough attention anymore, I indulged him. I grabbed the stuffed turtle and threw it. Then I looked down and there it was, gleaming at me from the carpet. My diamond. Howie had pointed me right to it.

I screamed in delight and woke up my husband, who was equally excited, but more so because he wouldn't have to buy a replacement. The whole family did the happy dance. Yes, Howie too. Rob commented how small the diamond looked when it wasn't in the ring. I pleaded the fifth ;)

It's quite possible we may have found it when we vacuumed, but judging by how often we do that, Rob probably would've already bought a replacement (which I'm sure would've been twice the size, right honey?) and we'd be nearing retirement.

Instead, thanks to Howie, I get to wear the ring, diamond and all, that I've cherished for the last 8 years. And that is why I owe my dog two thousand bucks or so. So far, he hasn't been hassling me for the cash. Hopefully he's just happy with his $50 haircut! And the fact that I haven't manage to leave him at a basketball game just yet.

Howie's "You owe me" face

No comments:

Post a Comment