Ginnie was a long time shopping at Walmart, like four hours. I was wondering, “What’s taking her so long?”

When she finally got home she was all flustered. “Has Walmart called you?” she asked.

“No. Why?”

“I lost my phone somewhere in Walmart. I was looking something up on line and must’ve laid it down on a shelf. I noticed it was gone when I went out to the car. I went back in and retraced my steps. Nothing. I went to Customer Service and asked if anyone had turned in a phone. No. I gave them your phone number to call in case it shows up. What am I going to do?”

“Oh, man,” I said. “This is like losing a loved one. I feel sorry for you. Your calendar is on that phone. Your whole life is on that phone.”

I walked into Ginnie’s bathroom because it was closer, and I can see the mailbox from her bathroom window. We have his-and-hers bathrooms. There, on her vanity, was her phone. I held it high above my head and walked it out to Ginnie, cackling. “Is this the phone you left at Walmart?”

She stared at it in stunned silence, like beholding a miracle, before she leapt for joy. “I could swear I used the phone in Walmart. Oh, thank you! I need to call Walmart and tell them I found my phone.”

“Err, ah. Tell them your husband found your phone in YOUR bathroom.”

But Ginnie’s not the only one with quirky experiences. That same night I snapped on the outdoor light to let Buddy out into his pen. The light didn’t come on. I told Ginnie, “The outdoor light bulb needs replacing. Do we have anymore bulbs?”

She walked over to the switch, and flipped the switch right beside the switch I had used. The outdoor light came on. “Try using the right switch,” she said, rolling her eyes.

We’ve lived in our house going on 10 years. I’ve been using the right switch for 10 years, but for some reason, in a senior moment, I had forgotten everything. Why things like this happen I’m not for sure. I think it’s called brain flatulence.

Then there’s Buddy our dog. He’s 15 years old. He’s been doing a lot of coughing lately. The vet told us Buddy has a heart murmur and gave us medication. Ginnie has her pillbox, I have my pillbox and Buddy has his.

Then we noticed blood spots on the carpet. Inspecting Buddy, we found he had been chewing his dew claw on his left front leg. This was a Saturday night, and we wouldn’t be able to get Buddy to the vet until Monday. I looked for the “Cone of Shame” that we had used on Buddy once before. But Ginnie, thinking we’d never use it again, and in one of her throwing out moods, had thrown it out. But she neglected to dispense with the nipple bucket that we’ll never use again. We raised a heifer calf once, Blossom, and used it then. Does anyone need a nipple bucket?

We called around to friends who had dogs to see if they had a “Cone of Shame” we could borrow. Nada. But it was suggested that we check with Tractor Supply. We did and they had them! We rushed to Tractor Supply and were able to get the right size of cone for Buddy, plus some bandages. Buddy is now wearing his “Cone of Shame” and not appreciating it one bit. But he can’t get to his dew claw, either.

I wonder if they have “Cones of Shame” for humans.

————

Have a good story? Call or text Curt Swarm in Mt. Pleasant at 319-217-0526 or email him at curtswarm@yahoo.com. Curt is available for public speaking.