Our last house in the UK had a garden that led down to a stream, through a small pine copse and then up onto farmland. So it was our usual route out and back for walking the dogs. Coming back one evening, the dogs running ahead of me, I ducked under a branch from one of the pine trees and my varifocal glasses flew off, to be lost in the gloom.
Arriving grumpily back at the house, I found my brother in the kitchen who said: “I’ll find them”. I protested saying it was dusk and he’d see nothing between the trees. He found them.
Since he shuffled off this mortal coil, he helped us find our house in France and he continues to rescue me for the small day to day irritants - keys, phone, glasses, etc etc - Peter, where are they???
Last night, a friend came to supper and arrived depressed because while on the sit-on mower earlier (they have a large garden) at some point he lost one of his (very expensive) small hearing aids. The app on his tablet proved useless and he’d spent a fruitless time trying to retrace the pattern of his mowing backwards and forwards.
OH offered to help this morning. As he left, I said “take Peter with you.” It took OH 15 minutes to find the hearing aid (intact) in the grass.
If you do not have a “Peter” of your own, I commend my brother to you. He really is very good.
[quote=“SuePJ, post:1, topic:47132”]
Last night, a friend came to supper and arrived depressed because while on the sit-on mower earlier (they have a large garden) at some point he lost
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Using a sit- mower while wearing hearing aids!
As a hearing aid wearer the first thing I do when preparing to cut the grass on my ride-on is take my aids out. They are noisy machines and best to wear ear defenders, with them and no aids the noise is vastly reduced. Pleased the aid was found but not the time and place to wear them.
I don’t so I will take you up on the offer this afternoon. After once again taking the 2 dogs, this time with Shanna trailing the long line but not held, I whistled them both not far from the return to the car. When I got home again there was no sign of my whistle. It has a lanyard but I did not bother to put it round my neck, if I find it this afternoon, and I remember my last blow, I will make sure to always wear it in future.
And murmur a thank you to your Peter. 
These stories made me think of Michel Talagrand, the french mathematician who has just won the Abel Prize for randomness studies. I was reading about him only 2 days ago…
Un bandana aux motifs bleus sur le front lui donnant, selon les commentateurs, des airs de hippie, de biker ou d’Indien. « Je n’attache pas d’importance à ma tenue. C’est en fait involontaire », s’excuse le retraité du CNRS, 72 ans. Sa femme a trouvé ce bandeau pour qu’il ne perde plus son appareil auditif !
A bandana is the solution !
Thank you duly murmured. We went back to the river field and I left the 2 of them in the car while I, and a young man with his elderly Collie that I am friendly with who live in his camping car, searched diligently the area where I last blew it, all to no avail.
So they drove off, they are only supposed to stay 3 nights, and not at all in October to March, but the Maire never bothered him but he takes off now and again to take advantage elsewhere, and I got the pair out of the car with their long lines, down to the river and back. Apart from them circling and tying my legs together so that I fell on Shanna, all went well but I was annoyed at the loss of the whistle. I have a metal silent one but I can’t hear it, not being a dog, so I don’t trust it, and I promised myself that as soon as I got home I would send for another one.
Back home I let them both out of the car, and there was the whistle, in amongst the lines and blankets. So thanks Peter, but a little clue before I went would have been handy, but on the bright side they got 2 walks today, I had a chat with Flaurent and Wicky, and Shanna was back in the 100% slot again, because in order to flake her line back in, I let her out on her own. And she came straight back when I called. 
Glad he was around to help. 
Sometimes he’s a bit busy. He knew you all needed that second walk.
Yes, we did. 
I may have mentioned this before somewhere. A cat of mine, Siamese Sam, went missing, and for twelve months I would glance along tractor trails here and there as I passed them by, hoping one day to see him.
One Sunday morning I felt like having red wine with lunch, and the village corner shop was open. Instead of cycling along the main road I decided to go the longer way round, through fields and vineyards - it was a quiet peaceful morning. I got my bottle of wine and made my way back the same way. As I passed a gap in a hedge, where there was a tractor trail, I caught a momentary glimpse of a cat and slammed on the brakes. The cat’s colour was right.
I shuffled back a bit on the bike, sighted the cat in the distance and called. He stood up and started walking along the trail towards me, and as he got closer, I began to hear him meowing, and he was meowing repeatedly. It was Siamese Sam! He’d been living in the cowshed, surrounded by fields and woods, a kilometre away from home.
Found! A small miracle.