Lost Things and Dog Hair

This morning the unthinkable happened: Mom lost her Address Book. This isn't just any old address book, it is the ADDRESS BOOK. Everything is in there with the exception of the last novel by Dickens.

I've seen this book and it amazes me. Phone numbers and addresses are only part of the bounty to be found in this book. Mom has birthdays, anniversaries, blood types, complete health histories, clothing sizes, yoga workouts, and dog names in that book. The complete maintenance history of her last two automobiles is in there somewhere, along with the names of her favorite mechanics at PACC Auto.

It has a filing system that only she understands. There are rubberbands, paperclips, and sticky notes holding important places and delineating special sections. When she can't remember the names of family pets, she finds the special page that has all that information, in her compacted and unique penmanship.

The loss of this book was huge. It was all Mom could do to concentrate on her telephone call with me. Finding this book was so important that she was considering the possibility of going through the trash can.

Mom doesn't like trash and the idea of going through the trash is so unappealing that I could hear the stress in her voice and the feel the tension of her muscles, steeling themselves for this most distasteful of chores.

"Why would you have to go through the trash?" I asked, "You would never throw it away!"

"I might have forgotten and thrown it away," Mom replied.

"I don't think so, Mom... it's too important. You wouldn't do that, even if you were distracted."

"You never know. I've been really distracted lately."

She told me to wait while she checked one more place. "No, it's not there..."

"Where?" I asked.

"A place I didn't check yet. It wasn't there."

"Oh... have you checked all your purses?" I asked.

"Yes. All of them. If I don't find it soon, I will HAVE to go through the trash before it gets picked up tomorrow." She was sounding anxious.

"When did you use it last?" I asked, trying to be helpful.

"I used it to mail back Haley's phone charger. I had to double check. I know the address, but I just had to double check. So I had it open. When Haley was here, she left her phone charger."

"So it's all HALEY's fault," I said. But Mom didn't laugh. She was clearly very agitated. I told Mom that I always have to check too, because I forget the zip code.

"Well, THEN what did you do with it?" I asked, trying to sound thoughtful, "after you double checked?"

"If I KNEW that, I would know where it is," said Mom.

"Did you take it with you to mail the phone charger?" I prodded.

"No. At least, I don't think so. No. I can picture it... it was open."

"So you didn't mail it to Haley with the phone charger?"

"Mail it? Why would I mail Haley my address book? No. No. I don't think so," Mom replied. But the pause in conversation lead me to suspect she was considering that possibility. Then she was probably mulling over how she was going to call Haley and ask about the address book.

"Okay. Well, think carefully about where you were when you had it open. Then what happened next?"

"I don't know. Maybe I just won't think about it."

"Yeah, Mom.. if you don't think about it, you will remember."

It sounded like a plan.

"I will go take a shower. The hot water will sooth me. Maybe I'll remember."

"Good idea," I said, trying to sound cheerful.

"I really don't want to go through the trash," Mom said again. "I really have to find it. EVERYTHING is in that book."

"Maybe you should do that prayer... to the Patron Saint of lost things."

"The saint of lost things? Who is that.... I can't remember." Mom was born half-Catholic and dragged to Mass often enough but that wasn't helping in this situation.

"What was it that Auntie Chickie said about finding lost things... the prayer?"

"I can't remember," sighed Mom.

"Okay, I hope you find it," I said, before hanging up.

It came to me later, something about dog hair. My aunt had read this wacky thing about using dog hair to find lost items. My Mom and sister and I had chuckled over it.

But I was about to call Mom to tell her about the dog hair when she called me back.

"I found my address book," Mom announced with relief. "It was in the car. In a plastic bag. I looked one more time."

"Oh good.... so you DID take it with you," I said.

"I don't know why, but I did. Thank goodness. I didn't want to go through the trash."

"Dog hair, Mom," I said.

"What?"

"Dog hair. Auntie Chickie said that Dog Hair helps find lost things."

"Oh. Okay. Whatever you say," said Mom, clearly not remembering the whole laughing-out-loud conversation we'd had in November about Auntie Chickie and the Dog Hair.

Mom signed off and probably spent a few minutes wondering about dog hair. I, for one, will be brushing Seamus tonight and mailing Mom some dog hair.

You just can't be too careful. I mean, that book has EVERYTHING.