I knew we loved our hockey in this country. I had no idea we felt this strongly about our pucks.

With the royal wedding, our federal election and the death of Osama Bin Laden, you would think any media attention on a missing puck would have been squashed.

Stratford native and NHL linesman Steve Miller has been implicated, scratch that, dragged through the mud by the media all because he may or may not know the whereabouts of a hockey puck. With a weighty news week, why are we still consumed by a puck? Doesn’t Sport Chek have any left?

 “I wrote a letter to my love and on the way I dropped it.” Imagine dropping something with real sentimental value like a letter to your love. Do you see how easily that can happen?

The writer of the letter was en route to delivering it when he dropped it. He had one job, to deliver a letter. I can’t imagine how difficult it would be to keep track of a hockey puck during the frenzied post-game celebration of a Stanley Cup championship win.

“A little doggy picked it up and put it in his pocket.”

Nobody even questioned how a dog could pick up a love letter. Put it in his pocket? Are we not going to get the FBI involved in a claim as absurd as a dog having a pocket?

I’m not convinced the FBI would have been called in if Wolfgang Puck had gone missing but a hockey puck, we want your best eyes on this one.

“He won’t bite me, he won’t bite you, but he’ll bite the one who’s got it.”

Wait! I thought the dog had it. Why would he bite the one who’s got it if it’s in his own pocket?

People forget things. It’s human nature. Do you know how many times I’ve driven to Costco for laundry soap and returned home only to realize among my $300 worth of toilet paper and mini-yogurts, a glaring absence of laundry soap?

One article suggests Miller is considered among the finest officials in the game. Can we not focus on those accolades and fish another puck from the NHL puck warehouse. Surely, the puck in question wasn’t the last one.