Search and Rescue This

I sensed there was something wrong the moment I pulled up to the house.  There were subtle signs.  All three animals were crowded into the front window, cold wet noses pressed to the glass, eyes beseeching me to hurry up, hurry, hurry up!  When I opened the door I heard... The Sound. Somewhere in the house there was buried a faintly beeping pager. 


"beep beep beep.... beep beep beep..."

And Husband. Was searching. 

Some history: Husband, the song in my heart, likes to take on new challenges in order keep himself mentally fit.  For this reason he refuses to set vital items, like pagers, car keys and wallets, in the same spot twice in a row. 


The sound of the pager bleating faintly from some secret location in the house is  Husband's cue leap from his constant state of well-napped readiness and spring into Search and Rescue Mode. Loosely translated this means 'hunt for the damn pager.'  


The search leads him stomping and muttering about the house, employing the classic method of staring at piles of things without moving them and declaring the pager is not to be found.  When things do start getting moved about Husband will end up having to apologize to at least one of the critters for being overly vigorous when flipping the sofa cushions.  You haven't been reproached until you have been reproached by a senior Labrador who has just had a desiccated Cheeto bounce off his nose.


I am Husband's raison d'etre, or so he tells me, his guiding star and cherished heart.  I am also his remote memory storage device because after seven years, one of us had to learn to watch where Husband puts his stuff.


"It's in the office on the bookshelf, dear one," I told him as the dogs and cat peeked out from under (where else?) the sofa.  Husband retrieved the pager seconds before the battery died, kissed my cheek and went out the door to save the day.  


When one's job is to be ready to leave the house at a moment's notice, one would think the other one would get's one's respective ducks in a row. Or at least hang the bloody ducks on a hook within easy reach of the door.