God Bless the Dog Park

Oh. My. Gosh. Just ohmygosh.

There I was, taking the Basset Hounds for a nice Thursday afternoon stroll through the dog park. All was going swimmingly, both of the dogs were answering to their names today and both of them were staying with my line of vision. There were no skirmishes, no close calls, no getting caught without a bag, no chasing, no growling, no humping, no stalking of Bernese Mountain Dogs...all in all a really great trip to the dog park.

So after some trail climbing and water lapping (them, not me), we said our farewells to the dog park as I loaded the Bassets into the back of the car. Uneventful drive home. Get home, unlock the door, take off their leashes, sigh with contentedness and reach into my pocket for my license so I can return it to my wallet. And reach into my pocket for my license so I can return it to...my...wallet....and REACH INTO MY POCKET for my LICENSE so I can return it to my WALLET!!!

My license, is not in my pocket. Instead, the pocket fabric is turned out, obviously suggesting that the my license flew the coop ages ago. Don't Panic.

Okay, panic.

I run outside and look over the ground, unlock the car and look all over the driver's seat and side. No avail. Nothing but a gum wrapper. Let out huge frustrated sigh. Climb back in the car, start the engine, drive BACK to the dog park. It must have fallen out when I loaded the dogs because that's when I reached into my pocket for the keys. Stupidly, the keys and license were in the same pocket.

So I search the parking lot: not there. I go back into the dog park and retrace every.single.step that I had stepped just fifteen minutes prior. I climbed hills and searched through grass, bark, wood chips, and dirt. There were no Bassets trailing behind me, so I must have looked strange just traipsing through the dog park with no dogs. But I don't know if anyone looked at me weirdly because I never looked up from the ground. I walked around that entire dog park again, at warp speed, scanning every inch of the ground for my license: nothing.

Let out huge frustrated sigh as I climb hill to go back to the car. I pause at the front gate and look at the bulletin board a short ways a way. Could someone have found it? Would they put it there? I walk over on my last whim and scan the posters taped, stapled, and push-pinned to the bulletin board. No, no, no. My eyes can't find anything. And then my heart skips a beat as I realize my own face is staring back at me.

There, in the lower corner of the bulletin board is my license held up by a pushpin at either end. Ohmygosh. Try to contain myself. Try not to spin in circles with my arms outstretched. Try not to sing the entire soundtrack of the Sound of Music. Try not to click my heels in the air. Return to car. Drive home. Weep softly. God Bless the Dog Park.