I mean it quite literally. My friend, who shall remain nameless for her own safety, has a lost log. She’s as upset about it as you can imagine. She adopted the log after the big recent flood deposited it on her neighbor’s riverfront property. It was a damned nice log, hollowed out, loaded with character. Who wouldn’t covet such a log?  She knew it deserved a home, a place where a cat would scurry through it or take a nap on it, so she called up her neighbors and asked if she could take it off their hands. Her neighbors, not being log-lovers, obliged, so this friend and her husband attached the log to the back of their car and dragged it back to their property. It was heavy as hell, so they didn’t put it exactly where they wanted it, leaving it closer to the street than was ideal perhaps. 

So last Sunday, this friend heard a sound in the night that sent chills down her spine–the sound of a flatbed tow truck being a flatbed tow truck at the bottom of her driveway.  Not a sound I recognize right off the bat, but I don’t doubt her. At any rate, the next day, the log was gone. GONE!  By 9 a.m. I heard the news,  after only 12 other people had been notified. The tow truck community was next. I had never before given much thought to the tow truck community, but now I worry that the next time she needs a tow truck, it ain’t gonna end well, but that will be a post for another day. This post ends as it should, with my friend’s call to action. Disgusted with herself for not chasing down the thief on her property, she hoped to prove once and for all that the magic marker is mightier than the tow truck. She didn’t post Lost Log flyers or get Crimestoppers or Call 12 involved (yet), but she didn’t take the theft lying down either.

lost log