I once lost a knife, and knew that I had lost it. The recollection of it even now, 15 years later, seems like only yesterday. It was lovely winters morning with snow about 8 inches deep on the ground and I had picked a Jukka Hankala Tommi to take along, unusually my daughter had decided to accompany me and our two Jack Russel's on the morning walk. It was brilliant for her to decide to tag along so I decided to talk a longer than usual route with the tommi tucked in my pocket, belt carry is frowned upon in public over here. We did the usual, collected a bit of birch bark, and generally just messed about enjoying the contrast of snow and beautiful clear crisp blue skies and sunshine.
When we returned home I went to take the knife from the jacket pocket and it was not there, I can understand entirely that the range of emotions that you went though, from disbelief to dismay and everything in-between. I had to go and look for it, it was my pride and joy. We all set off again, retracing our steps through the snow, this time it was not such a wonderful walk, frustration at the snow, panic that I would never find it and then after another couple of miles the dogs feet must have been getting cold and Paddy, the dogs were called Max and Paddy after the TV show, was on his back with his feet up in the air, my daughter let out a big aaawwwww hes cold and rushed over to pick him up I went over a bit slower and there, in the snow with the faintest tip of the sheath poking up was the Hankala. We could not believe it! Absolute joy and salutations abounded, my daughter kept saying that Paddy had found the knife, of course it was a complete coincidence. I went along with it and she loved telling the story to everyone about how we had the best, cleverest dog in the world. We made a fuss of them both that day I'll tell you, left extra lamb on the Bone. She loves telling that story, even now all these years later. Thank you for that Jukka.
After that experience I did not get any more careful with knives, but appeased myself, to certain extent, by calling them Missing In Action rather than lost. I must have ten rucksacks and numerous tents in the loft, there could be knives everywhere "stashed and ready to go".
Currently on the MIA list are a TK3, a Puma folding hunter in stag from the 50's(God knows how much I miss that knife), a Nepalise bone handled edc type with a fretworked solid silver scabbard, a stag senator, another stag senator that I bought to replace that lost one, and numerous others, too many to mention. Some have even turned up in my Sons bedroom and then mysteriously disappeared again.
I really must make a conscious and concerted effort to be more organised.