My Dooney

I felt like an adult for the first time in months. Mike and I were having dinner with Kevin and Sharon. Good food. Good conversation. No kids. It was a combination that I had promised myself to seek out from time to time.

We were still chatting and laughing as we walked to our cars. I was silently patting myself on the back for suggesting a night out.

“Babe!” Mike yelled. “The truck is gone!”

I hopped off of cloud nine and looked up and down the street for the light grey Dodge. Sure enough, it was gone.

“That sucks,” I said. To be honest, I wasn’t too upset. The truck was a company car, so the loss didn’t really affect us. Mike was pacing in a tight circle, furiously punching the buttons on his cell phone.

“Hello,” he growled. “I want to report a stolen vehicle.”
I didn’t understand Mike’s frustration. Sure, we were a bit inconvenienced, but at least the car wasn’t ours. I turned to talk with our friends while we waited for the police.

“Did you have anything in the truck?” Kevin asked. “Just a tote bag and an umbrella …” I began.

I started thinking more about my missing belongings. That just wasn’t any old tote bag. It was my Dooney & Burke Tassel Tote that I got for an incredible deal during a department store close-out.

Not to mention, I had dropped my checkbook (credit card included) into the bag on my way to work that day. So the thief had a new ride, the means to gas it up, and a present for his mother or girlfriend. Oh, and my favorite sunglasses were in there too.

Mike was rumbling something about his $200 pool stick and dart collection. “That was a McDermott titanium cue! I’ve had it for seven years!”

That didn’t mean anything to me, but I could feel his pain.

As I pictured some stranger prancing around town with my bag on her shoulder, headed to a nearby pub to see her man hustle the locals over a game of billiards, I got pissed. “Bastards!” I yelled. And I continued to yell that throughout the week as I called the bank and credit card companies to switch over my accounts.

I am thankful, though, that they took the car and ran. It could have been worse. My daughter could have been in the car when the thief decided to take it. Or finding the address in my checkbook could have inspired a visit to our home.

I’ve found another pair of glasses. They are similar, but not quite at cute. Mike has been playing pool with borrowed sticks, and he says his game is suffering. And my Dooney? Well, it’s long gone; the company doesn’t make it anymore.

If you are reading this, and your son/boyfriend/husband/secret admirer has just given you a light brown signature Dooney tote with dark brown trim, beware! It is quite possible that your benefactor is the no-good so-in-so who stole our stuff. Check the pockets. You may just find a pair of black rhinestone-studded sunglasses.

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