Tag Archives: United Parcel Service

Chloë Greets the Newest Ms. Brown

My UPS guy

My  REAL UPS guy

Since my favorite UPS driver Kevin retired last fall, life just hasn’t been the same. I was making some headway with Craig, his replacement, thanks in large part to Mike giving him a box of dog biscuits on two separate occasions so he didn’t think I was just a beggar without redeeming value. Then Craig suddenly disappeared, and the succession of drivers who followed for the next several months did nothing to engage me or the other dogs on the West Magnolia route. (I heard all about these share complaints while hanging out in the canine chat room around the Dravus water cooler, I mean water tower.)

She went thataway!

She went thataway!

Finally, one day I heard the brown truck roll up our block, and I barked insistently enough that Mike got me leashed up and out the front door while the truck was still parked in front of the driveway next door to us. This time a smiling woman driver came bounding out of the truck with a big hello. There was no one else around, so I realized that she was saying hi to me! And before I even had a chance to squeal and writhe at her feet on the pavement, she reached into her brown shirt pocket and handed me a treat. Not thrown on the ground like Kevin did, but real my mouth-to-her hand contact. After Mike asked her if she would be the regular driver on this route, and she said she would be, she told us that Craig had left UPS to drive huge semi tucks on long-distance trips. Compared to the quiet streets of Magnolia, doesn’t seem a step up to me, but maybe Craig craved a more open road. Then Mike and I exchanged names with the new driver, and Donna gave me another treat.  I didn’t even have to ask.

What’s more, the next two times I saw Donna went even better: She remembered my name! Kevin, bless him, always called me Killer, but I’m sure he said that to all the dogs. Donna remembers my name and says that I’m “so cute.” That’s a direct quote.

On the trail

Stalking brown treats

I do have some quibbles, of course. First, she seems to have a lot of days off. I frequently see other UPS drivers make deliveries on our street, and none of those drivers know me and don’t seem to want to make any eye contact. Frankly, I’d like Donna to have a heavier workload, although I figure she’ll be a lot more regular in the run-up to the year-end holidays.

I also have to point out the size of the treats she’s giving out is on the small size. They are similar to the mini, bone-shaped treats that Heather sometimes brings me from Pet Pros in Magnolia Village. It would take about 10 of them to equal one of the giant Milk Bones that Kevin would toss me from his truck. Mike gave Donna a bag of the good Science Diet baked bones biscuits the other day, so I expect the menu to improve at my favorite brown food truck.

And hey, Donna has a great attitude and high potential. I just hope I get longer to groom her than I got with Craig.

 

Chloë Has a Lucky Day

Miss Happy-Go-Lucky

Even someone as happy-go-lucky as I am has to admit it’s been pretty bleak around here lately. The days are short enough at this time of year; when it’s raining or heavily overcast, it doesn’t get light until after 7, and it’s dark long before 5. Truth be told, I’ve been getting a bit stir crazy during the day. There’s a lot of energy bottled up in this little puppy body.

But the other afternoon the sun came out, the wind died down, and it got downright pleasant for a few hours. I could even sniff a hint of the tropics in the air–and I’m not talking Pineapple Express rain, neither. Just a brief, vague promise of spring.

Anyway, I bugged Mike until he had to get up from his damn computer and take me outside for a brief saunter down the block. As my butt wiggled along the sidewalk, I spied Kyle, our new mailman, coming our way. The guy seems nice enough, sometimes he even stops to pet me. But he obviously missed the mailman memo about bestowing treats along with the junk mail. I’m pretty certain by now that Kyle’s not coming across with anything to eat anytime soon, if ever. Some kind of health-nut calorie-counter, I suspect. I say that because this guy wears shorts on his mail route, every day. Mike’s in long underwear, and this guy’s wearing shorts.

Kyle had no sooner had passed us when a more promising target approached: the big, brown, rolling box that often delivers smaller boxes to many of the houses on our block. Once in a while it even stops at our house, and that’s how I met the nice man who drives it. When I sat in front of the house all summer, he was always stopping, saying hi and leaving me with a nice BIG Milk Bone. Not one of the tiny ones like Mike passes off as treats. BIG ones. And I didn’t even have to work for it, he just laid it down in front of me. On a silver platter, so to speak.

So I went into high-speed wiggling as soon as I saw the big brown truck come up the street towards us, but then it stopped, and a different guy jumped out and ran a package up to the neighbor’s front door. Damn! I thought. I’m going to be passed by for a treat again.

Then the truck pulled away from the curb, and I saw that the runner wasn’t the driver, but a second guy standing on the passenger’s side. Behind the wheel was my buddy, who then steered that big whale of a truck right over to where Mike and I were standing on our side of the street. When he got close to the curb, he chucked one of those huge Milk Bones out the window, and it landed on the ground about six inches from my nose. Needless to say, it didn’t stay there long.

To me, this incident clearly illustrates why the U.S. Postal Service loses billions of dollars every year while United Parcel Service thrives. I don’t know what UPS is doing for you, but it’s pretty clear what brown does for me.