About two months ago my wedding ring vanished without a trace, resulting in a Jimmy Hoffa-level search throughout our home. After a few days of looking, I decided to bribe our two Tax Deductions.

“Okay, $5 to anyone who finds my wedding ring,” I said waving the money in front of them as if it were a green, rectangular steak. 

“Is the $5 offer only good for tonight?” TD#1 asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Every day that passes the reward goes down by a dollar.”

“What if we find it on the sixth day?” TD#1 asked.

“Then you’ll owe me $6,” I said.

After gnawing on it for a minute, TD#1 threw us a curveball.

“I’d rather have a duck than the money,” she said. 

TD#1 has been harping on the pet duck thing for three years now. We have a beautiful dog named Millie that is quite loving to people and joyously homicidal to the family of nutria that resides in a nearby canal. I’m not sure what function the duck would serve that Millie isn’t already serving, as she loves the water and after eating too quickly is known to quack like a Gatling gun for several minutes.

“You realize our dog routinely chases birds and occasionally catches them?” I asked. “You’d have to suit the dog up with one of those Hannibal Lecter restraint masks, otherwise the duck will be an appetizer by noon.”

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“But I’d sit outside with the duck and let Millie become friends with it,” TD#1 said. “After about 15 minutes they’d be buddies.”

“All that 15 minutes is going to do is give the dog time to pick out a nice bottle of Pinot Gris to go with her duck,” I said. “How about we put a Donald Duck mask on the dog and call it a platypus? Then you’d have the cuteness of a duck with the rugged durability of a dog.”

I’m not sure where this fascination with ducks came from. When our Tax Deductions were small children, my best friend’s parents ran a plant nursery, and adjacent to it they kept two pet ducks in a pen. One Saturday morning I took the kids over to see these ducks, who turned out to be two piranhas in duck costumes. I tried to feed one of them, but it apparently mistook my arm for an after-dinner mint and went to town. 

Not wanting to offend the duck owners or scare the kids I played off the duck attack as a minor irritant, but the kids thought it was funny when I used some old Bojangles napkins from the glove box as a tourniquet. I spent the rest of our visit reminding the kids to stay a few feet away from the duck pen while nonchalantly trying to find out if these murderous birds were a protected species.

The ring was eventually found by The Wife two days ago. It had rolled behind the leg of some piece of furniture and rested in the upright position as if were an inmate hugging the outer prison walls to avoid being detected by floodlights. Generally, I detest wearing any form of jewelry, but I do love seeing people shocked at the notion that someone would marry me. 

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Usually, I’m missing either my ring, my phone or my car keys. The keys aren’t that big of a deal due to the fact that I have a spare set, although once last year I ended up locking the spare set in the car. I can function without the phone, but it’s difficult to conduct any type of business or surf eBay for “Alf” and “The A-Team” commemorative plates without it. By some sort of miracle, this past Saturday morning I was in possession of my ring, keys, and phone all at the same time. Alas, it would be a temporary victory.

Within half an hour of my ring being found the keys vanished. The Wife believes one of the three aforementioned items must be missing at all times to achieve balance in the universe. Then again, her taste in men is so skewed who can rely on her for advice?

Hopefully, by next week I’ll have all my ducks in a row.

Jon Dawson’s books are available at www.JonDawson.com.

The entire archive of shows can be found at www.BryanHanks.com.

The Bryan Hanks Show airs on 960-AM in Kinston and 960TheBull.com daily at 7 a.m. & 3 p.m. It also airs on the suite of 252ESPN.com stations in New Bern and Greenville (107.5-FM) at 6 p.m.