I know my little spaz Ernie stole it. This weekend I’m turning the house upside down. Then I’m gonna clean it up for Thanksgiving company.
Careful you don’t step on a pop-top.
Ooooo ::: shakes fist :::: Beat me to it.
Eh, wear some real shoes.
Put booze in a blender.
Ah…
That frozen concoction that helps me hang on.
Wasting my day in mundane ole doperville
searchin for my snarky poignant thought
some people say that cecil’s to blame
but i know, it’s ed zotti’s fault
I stared and stared at the picture of a dog, trying to figure out the resemblence to a flip-flop.
And then I re-read the OP. Which did kind of indicate that it was a picture of a pet, not a picture of a flip-flop being linked to.
Yeh, not good to lose a thong.
edit: what’s the dog going to do with it
Call John Kerry?
They don’t even have pop-tops any more! 
Removable ones, at least.
Ernie looks suspiciously like Rip Torn. Break out the confetti and you’ll find the flop.
Rip Taylor! He does!
Well, since it doesn’t look like waterboarding is illegal anymore, I don’t think you’ll have any trouble getting him to talk.
Do you have any bums in the neighborhood? Follow them.
They may lead you to the flophouse.
The booze in a blender advice was to Dolores. 
Speaking of misplaced things, I have to go home tonight and find my inspection white card and receipt and mail copies all the way Albany, 'cause my mechanic didn’t report my “pass” status in April and DMV needs a copy of both documents in order to renew my vehicle registration by 12/8.
I know it’s somewhere in that big pile over there (DR, if I find you flip-flop, I send it along).
My first thought on reading the title was to tell you to check the cat’s hiding spot. I see the culprit is not a cat, though. My cats like flip-flops for miniature scratching-pads.
I have your flip-flop. I’m sorry.
All your flip-flop belong to us.
And I, for one, bow down to our new flip-flop overlords.