WOOF WOOF

PAPER CHASE

 

I heard it thump on our wooden front steps but didn't move. The furnace had just clicked on and I had no intention of getting out from under my wool blanket topped by a thick quilt that had a smiley red rose pattern all over it. I gave my husband a medium kick in his rump and told him in no uncertain terms, 'Joseph, it's your turn. Bring in the paper.' Oh, the grumble, the usual grumble, annoyed me but the bed creaked a little and I knew Joseph would be going outside to get the  Thursday Early Bird special of weekly coupons soon. He couldn't waste time or else Rastas, the big, slobbering next door mutt,  would get it and tear it into nothingness. I gave Joseph another second or two and then  another push. He grabbed his flannel robe, tied the belt around his waist and headed for the front door. In two minutes he was back, empty-handed, growling like a wolf crying to the moon. 'Damn that dog. He beat me again!'

 

As soon as I saw Millie, Rastas' owner, bring out her recycle bin to put near the curb, I opened my front door. With fire in my voice, I called, 'You hoo, Mrs. Flax, you're damn dog got our special again.' She stomped over to argue with me. ' Rastas didn't take your paper. He isn't even here. He's been at the vets for two days with some weird skin trouble.'
With a most indignant sneer on her lips she went back inside. If she had slammed her door like she usually did, I'd have done something nasty but nothing came to mind at that particular moment. I'll be sure to note it on my scrap pad so I'll have a goodie ready when she slams that door again.

 

As soon as I warmed  Quaker Oats, with raisins and cinnamon for Joseph and I waited while he did what he does in the bathroom every morning of the week, I sent him to get a copy of the coupons from our super market. 'While you're there, get these things for us.'

 

While Joseph, the slow poke, was out, and wouldn't disturb me, I had time to go over our bills and write the monthly checks. This job was just one of the regular ones that was not given to me. It was thrown at me years ago. Joseph never was good with numbers, his knowledge was junior high training. It lacked a lot. It was the 29th of the month and I went to my meticulous folders in the desk drawer to get started. My eyes popped wide open. Everything was in order except our due and paid bills were missing. Where could they be? Who would steal them? Why? My search was useless. My 'cool' had turned to ice. My fingers cramped. It was tough holding back the nausea that overwhelmed me. I looked in the mirror and talked to myself. 'Calm down. There has to be an explanation,' and then I gagged, took a deep breath and, and, and, Joseph came home. I heard him put the groceries on the kitchen table, his jacket on the stairway rail. He saw me then, lying prostrate on the den sofa.

 

I gave him no time to ask what was wrong. I spurted it right out. 'My due and paid folders are missing from my desk. I've been searching for 45 minutes and am a nervous wreck. They are gone. Put the groceries in the pantry, will you, Joseph?'

 

This time he moved fast. He enfolded me in his strong, warm arms and kissed my forehead. 'Honey, I wanted to surprise you,' he whispered. I bought a small calculator and the clerk showed me how easy it works. The invoices are all in order, the credits and totals are correct.  I'm almost finished. All you have to do is write the checks.' My vigor in hugging him back surprised us both. 'Want to see the good job I did?' he asked. 'Later,' I said. We sat in the kitchen and talked and talked. I calmed down, kissed Joseph and he kissed me back.

 

We were rudely interrupted when Rastas started to bark and Mrs. Flax slammed her damn door.  I went to our door and slammed it harder than she slammed hers. I felt better and everything was copesetic!