Monday, January 25, 2016

Lost key...

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.


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