The Rubber Ducky Bath Time Heist

I had just finished filling the bathtub up with hot, bubble-bath water. I dipped a toe in before deciding it was perfect to climb in. My entire right foot was in the tub before I realized something was missing...

I couldn't put my finger on what was missing for a moment: the candles were strategically placed and lit, incense was burning, and I had my glass of wine at the ready...

SQUEAK!

My brow furrowed at the sound, though I now realized what I was missing; my dear rubber ducky, Weezer. I had had him since I was a young child, and he'd seen enough damage that he had to be squeezed in just the right way to squeak anymore.

SQUEAK!

"Buster!" I exclaim, "Drop my ducky! That's not yours!"

I storm into the living room to find a disaster. Muddy pawprints cover the carpet, the furniture, and the kitchen tile. I follow the freshest looking ones to the doggy door, and look out the window into our yard.

There, excitedly chewing on Weezer, is a very happy, very muddy, Buster.

I rush outside, barefoot, and instantly slip into a large mud patch. Buster comes to stand over me.

SQUEAK!