It Could Have Been Worse

You ever have one of those days where things don’t go the way you planned? Well, besides every day, I mean. We plan, God laughs – right?

That pretty much sums up my month so far. July has been…um…interesting.

Like the other day, for instance. I was straightening up the house, putting things away and just sort of moving from room to room putting things in order. I walked into the master bathroom with a giant package of toilet paper and added rolls to the toilet paper holder thingie and then walked into the half bath to do the same.

Only as I pulled the last roll of toilet paper out of the package, I fumbled it directly into the toilet.

Um. That’s not how it’s supposed to work.

I was laughing at myself because I’ve never done this before. And then I had to take a photo of it. While trying to press the button on my camera, I nearly dropped my phone into the toilet, too.

It was then I decided I’d best back slowly out of the bathroom with expensive cell phone firmly in hand.

I knew, of course, that I’d have to go back in again with a plastic bag to pull the sopping wet roll of toilet paper out of the commode and dispose of it.

But first I put the cell phone down.

So while I was shaking my head and rolling my eyes at my boneheaded move, I was also thinking it could’ve been worse.

I mean, that could have been the last roll of toilet paper in the house.

So I was grateful.

I recently wrote a blog about my runaway dog, Maggie, who took advantage of my distracted-ness and made a break for it while I was picking up her, uh, deposit from the neighbor’s lawn. I got her back, but only after a thorough tour of all the back yards in the neighborhood – as well as the neighboring neighborhoods.

What I neglected to say in that blog was it was the first time I’d lost Miss Maggie Minx. Usually it’s someone else in the household who is the one chasing her – not me.

So I can no longer be smug about that.

But what’s worse is that I lost her again last week!

I had her tied up on her run outside while I did some household chores that make her crazy – like carrying the laundry basket into the laundry room to do a load of darks. And like sweeping the kitchen floor with the broom. She barks like a mad dog. And don’t even get me started talking about the vacuum cleaner or the blender. Actual appliances with noise make her completely insane.

Anyway, once the broom and the basket were put away, I went out to unhook Maggie from her run…only I somehow fumbled the little football. And she got loose. And took off like a shot.

For a half a second, I debated about letting her run and waiting for her to tire and come back home…but as that has never happened before, I decided I would have to go on the hunt.  Besides, I would never forgive myself if she were to get hit by a car. Seriously. I don’t think I could survive that.

But, anyway. I had no earthly idea where she had gone.

So I grabbed her leash and some doggie treats – and got in my car to drive slowly around the neighborhood looking for the little runaway.

I alerted our lawn guy who was working down the street (and who is familiar with Maggie) and then decided to drive to the neighboring blocks to see if she had gotten that far away.

No such luck.

After driving around for a while without success, I headed back to my street. By the time I returned home, the cleaning company was in my driveway so I had to get them squared away. And then I got a text from the lawn guy saying there was a Maggie sighting in our cul-de-sac.

So I headed that way. By now there were several neighbors with some of their dogs on leashes trying to entice Maggie to stop and play so we could catch her. Again, no luck.

Finally, after nearly an hour on the run (in 90 degree heat), Maggie headed back toward home. And – thankfully – she decided to stop for a drink out of the bowl of water I’d left in the yard for her. As she greedily lapped at the cool water, I reached down and snatched her up.

And promptly put her in her crate (with some more water) so we could all recover.

Yeesh.

My recovery involved heading to the pool and floating around the lazy river in my raft. It was either that or some retail therapy and I wasn’t in an Amazon frame of mind. 

I was relieved and frazzled at the same time. Yet I knew it could have been far worse.

I could have spent the next several days searching for Maggie and contacting area shelters and humane societies and praying that someone would return her to us.

So I was again grateful.

And I’ve vowed to be more careful when I’m carrying things like toilet paper and Yorkies. I’m not a big fan of the fumble. I don’t have that kinda time.