“How could you have lost a plunger?” the clerk at the hardware store asked on the phone. “What did you do with it?”
Clearly this was a repeat customer. Her tone of voice gave her away.
Was he asking for a replacement or help in finding it? I didn’t stick around to find out, but it did make me curious.
How could you lose a plunger? How could you lose any plumbing tool for that matter? They’re large enough to trip over.
I’ve lost rings down bathroom drains, wallets at the check-out stand in supermarkets. I even lost Calvin once on a walk. He gave me signs that he was sufficiently trained to obey me, so I let him off leash. I blinked and he was gone. The next thing I heard him baying like a coyote in heat. He found a hole in the fence and wiggled through to run after a hare. I called him, but he was deaf. He was camouflaged in a thicket of bushes. I called louder. Nothing. I couldn’t climb the fence without tearing my body into pieces. I kept calling louder, but I was getting nowhere. By then I was hoarse. Finally I found a gate, unlocked it and ran through it. I spent an hour running all over the park calling for him. A park ranger drove by and stopped. I told him I was looking for my beagle. Had he seen him? The ranger laughed. I wanted to swat him. He said he’d keep an eye out. Did I want a lift back to my car? Yes, please. I was exhausted and ready to sob. How was I going to tell my son that I lost his dog?
When we pulled up to my car, the ranger laughed again. There was Calvin sitting on his haunches waiting for me.
Calvin says, “I remember that episode. And you thought I was the idiot.”