Copyright is held by the author.

SHE’D BE OK as long as he didn’t look in the glove compartment. This had been the perfect day for a scoot across the border for a wee bit of shopping until this moment. One car to go before her turn with the border guard and she could be in the biggest trouble of her life. How could she have forgotten? If she turned around now it would not look good. How could she have been so stupid — beyond stupid?

There, in the glove compartment, was a wee gift given to her from her best friend, Myrtle. It was in a Ziploc baggie — a few freshly rolled joints from a cool and caring friend. Why did she leave home with them still in the car? How could she have forgotten? Breathe Zen breaths she told herself and in no time you’ll be flying across the bridge. She could toss the joints before the second inspection. What the hell, weed is legal in a lot of states, but was it legal in New York? She could not remember. Her mind reeled with what might happen if she were caught.

“Where were you born?” the border guard barked.

“Toronto,” she blurted.

“What year?”

None of your business, she thought, but came to her senses. “1947, sir,” she said.

If he can do simple math then he knows I am a sweet little senior and just out for a day at the malls.

“How long will you be staying?” he demanded.

“Just the afternoon.” was her smooth reply.

“Reason for your visit?” he asked.

He reminded her of Robo Cop. At this thought, oh no, out came a wee nervous dribble onto her slacks. Today of all days she left home without her depends. The warm stream made her giggle right in the face of the officer.

“What’s so funny ma’am ?” he asked

She laughed again and dribbled some more.

“Pull over there.” he commanded.

Oh crap, she thought and did as she was told. Two armed officers with sniffer dogs were waiting for her arrival. They demanded she step out of the car. This was getting serious. There she stood stained crotch and on the brink of becoming a criminal who was about to wet her pants even more.

The dogs could hardly be contained. One dog tore into the glove compartment in a frenzy burying its nose in the interior. The dog backed out with a bag in its mouth tearing the bag to pieces. The officer grinned until he inspected the bag. It was Purina dog treats. Clearly the sniffer dog had shamed itself. The dog was after all a constable and this type of behaviour was totally unbecoming to its station.

“Bad dog!” the officer scolded.

In a quick cover up the officer snatched the treat bag form the jaws of the canine and told her to get back in her car and move on.

OMG. She sat back down on the moist seat in disbelief of her good fortune. She had bought a fresh dog treat bag for Ike, her friend’s rescue dog as a thank you for the joints her friend had so kindly made for her. She planned on taking the treats to her friend tomorrow at bridge night. She had stuffed the bag in the glove compartment just before she left that morning. As she sailed across the bridge, she seamlessly slipped the incriminating baggie out the window. She smiled at her karma of not being caught and imprisoned. How life can change in a wink she mused.

She drove to a near by mall to purchase some dry undies and slacks then headed to a pet store to replenish the Purina dog treats, Ike’s favourite. She would have something to declare all right when she crossed back over the bridge. Dog treats. At the lady’s bridge game tomorrow with a little embellishment she would entertain them all. She would declare her story of the border crossing and of man’s best friend who unknowingly rescued her that day.


  1. Don Herald

    Funny story, Suzanne. I passed the CommuterLit story link on to my border crossing friends. Cautionary tale about their glove compartment contents. They won’t be able to say I didn’t warn them when I get that call to come with bail money.

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