Today it was beautiful outside, 60 degrees and sunny. After spending
all weekend cooped up inside writing my thesis/memoir I decided I needed a
break and needed to get out, so naturally I put on my running shoes, grab Tux,
and hop in my truck to head to a good place to run. When I park and I am
getting ready to begin, I put my single car key on Tux’s leash as I have done
for years and I decide to leave my phone in my truck because I want to enjoy
the sounds of nature.
We are running and everything is going wonderful, the sun is
shining, Tux is actually running in a straight-ish manner (only stopping a few
times to go to the bathroom and roll in the grass), and I am finally beginning
to loosen up my sore legs and get into my stride. A few miles pass and we round
the last corner and I can see my truck glimmering in the sunlight. I know my
water is waiting inside and my parched mouth and tired legs push through the
final stretch to reach the cool water and shade. As I bend over to retrieve my
car key, I notice it is missing. Gone. I frantically look around at the ground surrounding
me and there is nothing but pavement. Oh, my God this did not happen … I have been
running with a single car key for eight years and never once have I lost it. Everything
is in my car … my purse with my wallet and ID’s, my phone, my keys to
everything, and my water. I am stuck.
Standing there pondering what to do, I decide Tux and I will
rerun my route on the slight chance that maybe, just maybe I will find my key.
We begin running again, slower this time and I continually pull on Tux’s leash
as he reluctantly jogs in the grass. My eyes are scanning the ground and I wish
I had worn my sunglasses. We pass the lake and I let Tux take a drink and think
that it looks very tasty, but I am not that desperate. My thoughts are racing
about how I do not have time for this, and what my next step is if I cannot
find it … there is a police station close and I’m sure they would help me get
it all sorted out. We continue our jog and I remember that Tux took a short
roll around in the shade of one of his favorite trees. I get down on my hands
and knees and begin searching the grass, feeling with my bare hands the dry
brittle grass hoping to feel hard metal, looking for a glint of silver, and noticing
the distinct smell of dog poop (no wonder Tux likes this spot) when JACKPOT! My
left hand grasps a small GMC black and silver key. Relief rushes through my
body as I stand up and glare at Tux thankful I have my key but pissed that he
caused me to lose it. I turn us around, we begin to make our way back to my
truck as Tux drools, and I twirl the key on my pointer finger in victory.
