The sun was just about ready to set as the hours rolled on â€“ drawing the summer solstice to a close. Inside the house, muppets were restless in their beds as the night was not yet dark despite the passing of bedtime.
I stared out at the clouds from my office window. I watched the weekend slip away and told myself it would be a good idea to get ready for the week ahead.
On a whim, I reached up to plug in my iPad. I donâ€™t usually bother charging it at home since I use it as a second (ok, fine â€“ third) monitor in the office. The weightlessness of the silver neoprene sleeve practically flew out of my hands. There was a definite three quarters of a pound missing. Also a whole lot of data.
No matter. I moseyed out to the living room. I must have left my fruity device on the end table next to the couch. After all, I do spend a lot of time perusing the web, playing games, and reading, while life is lived in the eponymously named room.
Well, I am getting old. Maybe memory doesnâ€™t serve as well. (Iâ€™ve been told oneâ€™s ability to multi-task ebbs around age 23). It must be bedside. Because how can one sleep without a bit of media browsing. I traipsed back to the bedroom.
Hmm. I returned to the point of origin. But the office was definitely iPad free. iPhone(s), yes. Mac(s), yes. iPad, no.
After circling the house three times, each time expanding the perimeter a bit farther – out to the kitchen, dining room, guest rooms and even the bathroom.
Logic told me I really should go to bed and find it tomorrow. I knew it was somewhere in the house. But as is wont to happen on a Sunday night, my brain decided sleep was no where in our near future.
Save tonight and fight the break of dawn.
I loaded up the Find My iPhone app on my phone. â€œFind Devicesâ€ and I clicked on iPad. Immediately I was vindicated as the little green dot lit up on my home address; it had last updated 30 seconds ago.
I really should just go to bed.
Instead I pressed the â€œsend a sound to my iPadâ€ option. And then I pressed it again. And again. And again.
I heard no sound.
I wandered around the house wielding my phone like an auditory metal detector.
Finally, I heard the faintest beep while standing inÂ my bedroom. It sounded like it was coming from across the house. I retraced my steps. But I couldnâ€™t hear it in the living room. I swear it sounded like it was beeping from across the sliding doors.
I opened the bedroom slider. A gust of still warm 70-degree night air hit me. And so did a distinct beep.
There, in the dogâ€™s favorite pillaging pile, was an orange plastic cup and my iPad.
The damn dog had absconded with my iDevice.
I picked it up and wiped a significant amount of drool off the cover, wondering if the rice trick worked for slobber as well as more purified water-logged issues. Sending up a prayer to the great Steve Jobs in the sky, I peeled back the newly customized dog-tooth-design cover.
It blinked to life.
Eight hours later I heard the sprinklers stutter to life for their weekly five-minute misting of our now yellowed drought-defeated grass.
I rolled over and snuggled up to my fully charged iPad mini. It was saved by the bell.
Iâ€™m still mad at the dog.