By Thomas Garcia
It amazes me what you can lose — and then find around the house when you have pets.
As some of you may know, I have two cats — Toby and Brownie — who are sources of great joy in my life as well as laughter, confusion and the occasional bout of frustration.
Recently, I lost my favorite pen, a red fountain pen; this pen is my go to utensil for work. This might seem outdated, as most reporters these days rely on the audio recorder. Well, I use a recorder at times but I prefer to use a pen and notepad.
I searched all over for the pen in my house, the last place I had it, with no success.
I overturned the cushions in the couches, looked under the coffee table and in even flipped over the recliner.
Now anyone who has pets will tell you, when you start moving furniture it can result in confusion and sometimes fear for your pets.
Brownie and Toby sat in the hallway watching me search for the pen with eyes wide and trained on my every move.
“What is he doing?” “Has he lost his mind?” “Are we going to have to get a new human?” are just a few of the questions that were possibly crossing their minds.
After an hour of looking in the living room, kitchen, bedroom and even the washer and dryer I was no closer to finding my pen than when I started.
I sat on the couch and began to wonder where I was going to get another pen that I liked. I’m sure to a lot of people this seems silly; a pen is pen after all, but I’m picky when it comes to my pens.
It has to have the right feel, the ink needs to come out smoothly and it can’t just stop in the middle of writing. I’ve gone through many styles of pens over the years and can tell you there is nothing worse than trying to take notes, write a message or jot down a score only to have the pen stop working.
I’ve thrown my fair share of pens across the room, away or out the window due to poor performance.
So as I sat on the couch pondering my pen dilemma, I heard one of my cats making racket at the back screen door. At first I ignored the noise and was trying to rethink of where I left my pen.
Finally the noise was to much to ignore and I walked into the kitchen and said, “What is going on in here? Do you not know I’ve got a crisis going on?”
Toby, startled by my comment, diverted his attention from the door and looked at me, and began talking “map, map map,” he proclaimed.
I walked to the door and what I saw made me laugh.
My pen, my favorite pen, was just outside wedged between the frame of the door and the back steps.
For the life of me I cannot tell you if the pen fell on the floor and the cats began to play with it and knocked it out the door or if it fell out of my pants and rolled there one day when I was doing laundry.
All I know is that Toby had found my pen and was doing his best to get my attention so I would pick it up.
Some would say it was a just a coincidence. As for myself, I’m pretty sure Toby set out to find my pen to make me feel better.
Thomas Garcia is a senior writer at the Quay County Sun. He can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org