I searched all over for it.
I looked on my bed, in my car, around my house, and even in my classroom.
Finally, I surrendered it all to the intercession of St. Anthony. Hopefully, he would keep praying to God for me even when I couldn't.
So the other night around Midnight, I took Macy on her nighttime walk.
As usual, I left my house armed with a flashlight, cell phone, mace, my keys, her leash, a pouch of baggies, and...a paper plate.
Yes, I probably look ridiculous, but I carry a paper plate with me when we walk. In the mornings, I'm sure it looks like I must have just finished a breakfast sandwich or something. But, of course, I don't use it for that purpose. Instead, I've started catching her droppings on these paper plates now, at the recommendation of my mother. Honestly, it's quite nice not to have to handle and feel the warmth of what she leaves behind.
Instead, I get to employ some of my former waitressing skills, this being the challenge of keeping on top of a flimsy surface that which could easily roll off while also multitasking (and by this I mean that I am still holding onto the leash while also deftly removing from the little pink pouch a plastic grocery bag). After this, the whole plate and its contents go directly into the bag, which I rush in haste to tie shut with my eyes closed and my nose sealed.But for some reason--on this particular night--I opened my eyes just slightly. Moments before the plate and its contents dropped into the plastic grocery bag, I happened to glance into the bag. And even though it was pitch black out, guess what I happened to see at the bottom! MY BRACELET!
I immediately tried to put the breaks on the entire procedure. I dare say that even my bracelet looked terrified, as it looked up in horror at that which was about to fall onto it. For a moment, I'm sure we both wondered if this would be the end of everything. And, in that instant, I began to calculate if the worth of the bracelet outweighed the sanitary risk one would take at removing it from such an inconvenience. Eww.
Fortunately, the flimsy paper plate did its job. Despite the poundage that sat upon it, I was able to make level its surface, even though it had been on a 10% angle downward.
Such an immediate and opposite reaction on my part sent the plate reeling backwards through the air, with the poop and my hand incredibly still attached to it (while also, fortunately, not touching each other).
Macy moved immediately out of the way as my whole body followed after the flying plate, and--before long--everything finally came to rest. Whew. We were safe.
So that, dear friends, are the methods by which the clever and humored St. Anthony helped me find my lost bracelet. How did it get inside one of Macy's poop bags? I have no idea. I would have discovered it sooner if I hadn't kept jamming new baggies into the little pink pouch before it emptied. :)
