Tag Archives: UPS

Chloë Rides a Perfect Storm of Holiday Cheer

Prowling for tasty morsels.

Prowling for tasty morsels.

I know I’m prone to complaining, but sometimes I am forced to admit I lead a pretty charmed life. Consider these examples. Just days after Mike put me on a special pre-holiday diet, and barely one hour after he had deftly steered me away from the latest feast our  generous neighbor had laid out along Wendy* Way, a stranger approached us on the sidewalk near the park entrance. She was a catering worker looking for an event at the Daybreak Star Cultural Center at the other end of the park, and she asked Mike if he could point her in the right direction. That was all the break I needed.

As Mike launched into a lengthy and no doubt confusing description of her easiest route through the darkening park, his attention was diverted sufficiently that I was able to maneuver him and myself into prime position for grabbing a piece of toast and a good hunk of lemon chiffon cake. My good friend Wendy* (not her real name) really has a good eye for baked goods.

Mike was about to give the young lady one of his park maps when she waved him off and rushed through the park gate perusing her phone. That was OK, since I had pretty much eaten my fill by then, and dinner was less than an hour away.

Besides, another perfect storm was brewing. Just a few days later, Mike was doing a good job of not letting me anywhere near the freshly served smorgasbord along Wendy* Way. That is, until he saw a stranger with two big dogs about to cross the street and into our path. Wanting to avoid the fearsome threesome, Mike reluctantly gave in and let me turn left over to the Wendy Way side of the park gate. The way the scraps were scattered all over the sidewalk and grass, he could not possibly divert me from them all. I nabbed some Italian bread and cheese on the way through.

Chasing down brown.l

Chasing down brown.l

And wait, there’s more. Not wanting to make an about-face and walk down Wendy* Way a second time, Mike marched us right up to the stop sign at the corner, and there, just two houses down Magnolia Boulevard, was my favorite big brown truck. Excited, I pulled Mike toward it like a sled dog, but as we got close my heart sank. The truck was parked for a delivery, but it wasn’t my pal Donna who got out with the package. Still, this new UPS guy smiled at me as he returned to the truck, making me think he might give me something anyway, when I noticed he was not alone. Then Donna emerged from the back of the truck with a wide smile and big hello for me, and two biscuits to boot. I’m hoping to see a lot more of her before the holiday rush subsides.  More deliveries means more treats, so I’m good for business.

Order restored!

Order restored!

Maybe there’s something to this notion of holiday magic after all. A few days ago I came back to the house after a whole day of being out, either on a walk in the park or a trip in the car. As I searched every room to see what may have fallen on the floor while I was gone, I noticed that the new, big, tall bed had miraculously shrunk back to its normal size, making it a lot easier for me to get in and out. I still can’t figure out what happened to shrink it, but it was a great Christmas present for my middle-aged knees and spinal column every time I forget that there’s “NO JUMPING.” Thank you, Macy’s, for putting things back the way they was.

Close quarters for Santa

Close quarters for Santa

In fact, I would be fine if the lowered mattress height turns out to be my only holiday gift this year.  Not that I don’t appreciate gifts, particularly the edible kind. I’m just being realistic. I can see with my very own eyes that my stocking has already been hung by the chimney with care. But I’m not at all sure Old Saint Nick will be able to squeeze his fat, jolly self between the chimney and the couch in order to fill it. The new living room alignment may be good for watching TV, but turning the back of your couch on Santa can’t be a good idea.

 

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 Trains the New UPS Driver

Mobile biscuit dispensary

Mobile biscuit dispensary

Kevin, my beloved UPS Man, retired back in November. I was introduced to Craig, the new UPS guy, not long after, but he didn’t really settle into the route full-time until sometime in January. It took me a while to get his delivery patterns down, and then a few in-person meet-and-greets for him to recognize me and where I live.

These days, however, as I excitedly drag the oafish Mike toward him or the door of his brown truck (whichever is closer), Craig recognizes me.  As soon as he sees me chugging towards him, he starts digging into his pocket for a biscuit, whether he’s delivering a package to our house or not. That was a big hurdle to clear. He understands me and my purpose, and he is prepared. While Craig has yet to call me by name (and  Mike has tried to make sure he knows it) and his presentation has not come close to the level of Kevin’s patented two-biscuit toss from the driver’s seat, I’m willing to give him more time to develop our relationship. As with baseball, it’s early in the season. Craig and I have a long way to go.

Dancing Fool

Dancing Fool

Mike, either from guilt or in an attempt to prime the pump on my behalf (or a bit of both), gave Craig an unopened box of my favorite dog biscuits to keep in his truck. I’m expecting that he’ll spread the wealth to dogs throughout Magnolia. I only hope those other mutts reciprocate.

Chloë Searches for a Brown Christmas

Training my new UPS driver is not going so well. When first I met the new guy, Craig, he seemed friendly enough, but he gave me only one bickie, no matter how many times I chased his truck down the block and stared at him. Plus, since our meeting occurred down the block in front of Merrie’s house, I’m not sure that he knows in which house I live. In fact, since that day, we’ve had at least two UPS deliveries to our front door, both apparently coming when Mike wasn’t home, since he did not personally witnessed any of my trademark obsessive-berserk UPS truck reaction, sometimes referred to as “Chloë’s going brown on us again.” Multiple deliveries with no bickies left on top of the package can’t be totally chalked up to wind gusts. Clearly, this new guy doesn’t get it yet. I resolved to do something about that.

On the Boulevard

On the Boulevard

At least every other day, when Mike and I went out for our afternoon walk, I steered Mike away from the park and southward through the streets of Magnolia, tracking the scent of brown trucks. One day along Magnolia Boulevard I spied one, driven not by my new friend Craig but another driver, one who I’ve met and received treats from. On this day, she had a helper, and she sent him to our side of the street with a package, so I dragged Mike back several houses to the spot where he would cross the sidewalk. He saw me and smiled—and he was still smiling when he climbed back into the brown truck alongside the driver. She checked behind her for oncoming cars, released the brake, merged into the traffic lane and pulled around the corner, never making eye contact with a dumbfounded dachshund on the sidewalk across from her.

Dravus tower

Dravus tower

When I sense brown trucks are in the neighborhood, I usually try to steer Mike up to the water tower on Dravus, where a couple of UPS routes seem to cross. The brown truck fumes linger around there, for some reason, because we’ve had multiple visits lately without actually seeing a brown truck in the vicinity. The last time I plowed right past the water tower without stopping, descending the hill on the other side and hustling pasts the play fields in the valley. Unfortunately, at that point we got caught in a sudden, heavy downpour of rain, freezing rain and sleet. Mike and I were drenched, and a long way from home.

That’s when my instincts kicked in. Before we reached Magnolia Village, I guided us on a serpentine course through the Pop Mounger Pool, Catherine Blaine School, the Magnolia Community Center and the Magnolia Playfields, and then past the Chase bank, the fire station, the automobile repair garage, the bus stop and the dry cleaner, right to the door of my Edward Jones broker Caroline. It made sense: It was a familiar place where it was dry and where I am always treated like a queen (meaning lots of high-quality treats). Only then did I find out the real reason I had been lured so strongly over the mountains (well, over the big hill where the water tower is) and through a fierce storm to this particular place: Caroline told Mike that Kevin, my recently retired UPS Guy, had actually been in her office recently as her client, and that he looked great. Good for him, I thought, but what about me and other Magnolia dogs, the ones he left behind with no bickies?

So close and yet so far...

So close and yet so far…

But as the dark days of December wore on, I began to accept my fate. Brown trucks drove up our street, stopped right outside our door, and I slept right through. On walks, I saw brown trucks turning left and let Mike steer me to the right. Finally, on the day before Christmas Eve, I saw that same brown truck on Magnolia Boulevard. For two blocks, I pulled Mike toward it, and then directly into the paths of both the driver and her assistant as they hurried to make deliveries, neither making any contact with my pleading eyes. They must received a directive from headquarters, I figured, pressure from above to speed deliveries along, with no time for socializing. Amazon and other mega-clients demand it, or they might decide to buy some planes and trucks and deliver the boxes themselves.

But I digress. After I failed to get noticed in two more passes of the brown truck, I sat down on the sidewalk and stared back at it forlornly, waiting helplessly for a driver to provide some hint of recognition, disappointed when nothing came my way. When Mike told me to “leave it” and to follow him away from the truck, I didn’t argue. I realized that my  puppy-hood was really over. I didn’t believe in my own personal Santa Claus anymore, and I worried it would be a blue Christmas without him.

 

 

Chloë Makes New Friends

Alone again naturally.

Alone again naturally.

Quite surprisingly, even to myself, I’ve been getting more social of late with other dogs. While I’m normally apprehensive, content to watch them from afar, recently I’ve been more curious, approaching warily, almost willing to engage. Sometimes I’m even starting to seek out their company, tentatively, then slinking away if my presence draws their interest,  or in a few cases even playing for a bit before retreating to safety behind Mike or Heather. It’s a process.

Meanwhile, I always do better with humans. I finally met the new UPS delivery guy, Craig. Unlike the reports from Merrie’s mom Jane that he gave Merrie five bickies at once, he gave me only one,  so I stalked his truck at every stop on our block. He waved at me when he drove off, but he didn’t throw me a second biscuit from the driver’s seat. I guess M & H will have to order more stuff online so he will see what important customers we are. He will have to be trained, that’s all there is to it!

Wait, don't leave without throwing another biscuit!

Wait, don’t leave without throwing another biscuit!

Of course, if anyone is planning to send any year-end holiday gifts our way, please don’t screw around with long lines at the post office or those white trucks from Federal Express…go BROWN, people!

I also have a new pal in Jill, my new dog walker. Mike and Heather went somewhere…they had been packing for days, so it must be farther than Syracuse. Lynn is staying with me as usual, but now she has to work more, so Jill comes during the day and takes me out for a long walk, but no off-leash time or ball-throwing. Jill is now my third walker this week, after Lynn and of course Charlie, who comes on the weekend. Jill must be some kind of specialist, I figure. Maybe this is part of the boot camp that Heather is always threatening me with. We’ll see. In the meantime, Jill puts my Kong Wobbler on the kitchen floor when she leaves, so it seems no training is necessary for her. If it is, I’ll get Mike to take care of it whenever he comes back from wherever he and Heather went. I’m certain it won’t be that much longer…it never is.

 

 

Chloë Feels Blue Over Brown

Merrie

Merrie: Another fan of UPS.

I had already heard the rumor from Merrie down the street, so the it didn’t shock me when Heather read me the news from  the Magnolia Voice blog the week that Mike was visiting Syracuse:

My favorite UPS guy, Kevin

My favorite UPS guy, Kevin

“After 35 years of delivering for UPS in our neighborhood, Kevin is retiring.  Kevin’s official last day is Oct. 30.”

Apparently Merrie and I were not the only Magnolia dogs to perk up their ears at the sound of his truck. Just  check out some of the comments to the blog post. Personally, I went absolutely nuts with barking, squealing and running around in circles every time I head that mighty truck engine roar down our block. And my two-biscuit gravy train was about to end? Say it isn’t so!

Luckily, Heather had ordered something on Amazon.com (Countertop Magic, I think it was), and we had a delivery that week while Heather was home working during the day. As usual, I started yelping and ran to the front door as soon as I heard the brown truck downshifting on Magnolia Boulevard. Heather leashed me up, holding on firmly, and we greeted him at the door. Heather gave him an envelope containing one of my special thank-you cards, my business card and a gift in return, a small token of my esteem for all the great service and Milk Bones he has delivered to us all these years. I scarfed up my last two Kevin biscuits with relish, since Mike wasn’t around to beat me to it and save it for later. No saving them on this special day!

When Mike got back, Merrie’s owner Jane told us that Kevin had already introduced them to his replacement driver, and that the guy gave Merrie five biscuits. Five! she said. Mike blanched when he heard that. We have had no corroboration yet, but clearly, educating all new UPS drivers on biscuit etiquette will be top priority.

Biscuit Delivery Machine

Biscuit Delivery Machine

For the time being, Mike is keeping me inside whenever I hear a brown truck roaring by. If our house gets a delivery, that’s one thing, but he doesn’t want me to be looking expectantly at every person in a brown uniform that I see, or to beg from drivers delivering to our neighbors. Mike and I have already seen a couple of drivers pass by us without slowing down and tossing two biscuits out the truck’s doorway as I stare at them forlornly. With the busy delivery season starting, I don’t know if I will be able to handle serial disappointment like that on a daily basis. It’s going to be hard on both of us.

Still, one day this week I led Mike on a scouting trip around the neighborhood. Although we did not spy a single UPS truck, it happened to be garbage pickup day, and I was lucky enough to snag a loaded pizza crust off the ground just the other side of the boulevard. Mmmmmm…it was the chewy kind, with some sauce and cheese still on top. No way Mike was getting that prize out of my mouth!  Anybody who says that I can’t walk and chew at the same time hasn’t seen me strut down the sidewalk chomping on a slice of pizza. When there are no bickies (dog biscuits) coming your way, you just gotta improvise.

 

Chloë Dreams of a Brown Christmas

Antlers return.

Antlers return.

I could tell we were zeroing in on That Most Wonderful Time of the Year when Santa Monkey, Rudolf and Mr. Moose came out of the storage bin and into the living room. Stockings and lights were hung. And the best part: My favorite big brown truck started coming more often. December must be some kind of mating season for the big brown trucks; I’ve seen them congregate in the parking lot of the former Bill the Butcher store at the bottom of our hill, rear end to rear end, in broad daylight. I’m certain something’s going on.

On the Boulevard

On the Boulevard

My personal favorite UPS driver has lots of deliveries in our neighborhood. More than once, Mike and I crossed paths with his truck before we even got to our corner. Of course, Mr. UPS throws two biscuits my way every time. So after I scarf them off the pavement (unless Mike grabs one first so I don’t wolf them down), we don’t walk towards the park as usual. Instead, I lead Mike along Magnolia Boulevard and its cross streets, hoping to meet the brown truck again. Even when I can’t hear it, its scent hangs in the moist December air. Or maybe it’s the scent of Milk Bones.

So for the past few weeks, I kept dragging Mike through the neighborhood, noting the tasteful light displays and chortling at the ugly ones. If I sensed we were closing in on the truck, I’d start to walk faster, but I had to be careful, because if Mike saw the truck before I did, he tried to steer me in the wrong direction. If I spied it first and got some forward momentum, however, there was no stopping me.

Dravus tower

Dravus tower

One day I caught him twice, and Mr. Brown gave me double Milk Bones both times. I call that my Ghost of Christmas Past moment. At the other extreme, my version of the dreaded Christmas Future: One day a big brown truck roared up the street near the water tower on Dravus, a favorite destination of mine. I waited for it by the curb, expecting two biscuits to fly my way. But the truck went right past me, turned the corner and stopped.

Mating season?

Mating season?

I dragged Mike across the street after it, and sat on the sidewalk between the truck and the house, waiting expectantly. In the truck were a driver and a runner, neither my guy. The runner smiled, told me I was cute, but shook his head sorrowfully. “No treats,”he said, showing me his empty palms. The truck drove down the block and stopped again. I followed,  and sat. The first time must have been some kind of mix up, I figured. Nothing. After I repeated this futile exercise a third time, I finally believed it. I let the truck drive off, but I was hardly done: I ordered Mike to write down the truck number, and I will be reporting this incident to UPS world headquarters in Atlanta. Two biscuits should be a right, not a privilege.

Chloë''s Stocking

Chloë”s Stocking

I’ve noticed several boxes arrived on our own doorstep of late, some of them even left courtesy of my own Mr. Brown (while I was apparently napping soundly? At least he left biscuits!). Maybe something arrived for me and Mike and Heather are hiding it until the big day. I’m confident, actually. I know I’m going to go to bed on Christmas Eve with visions of new toys and treats dancing in my head, and I fully expect to be rewarded in the morning. I mean, how good does a good dog have to be?

Chloë Plays Bingo

Bingo

Bingo

This is my new friend Bingo. And yes, that’s really his name-O. Bingo  lives in the Officers’ Row housing in the park, in the house next to where my other Navy pal Bella lives (that’s the thin Italian Bella, not the Weimaraner Bella). I envy those dogs, because they don’t just get to take walks in the park, they get to live there, 24/7. They always get first dibs on all the rabbits, cats and rodents that only come out at night. By the time I get there in late afternoon, all I get is a wistful sniff or two.

Bingo literally sneaked up on me one day. I was hot on the scent of a vole or a mole (it’s hard to tell them apart when they’re not right in front of you), my nose burrowed deep into the upper parade ground, when he appeared out of nowhere, nipping at my ears. I barked, he chased. I ran. He chased some more. When we both slowed down for a little stare-down, I realized he was just about my size, a little taller but not as long. He’s still a puppy, not yet a year old. I outweigh him, but not by much, and he may still put on a pound or two, since he’s demonstrated himself a beggar for Mike’s treat pouch (which is fine by me). We’re a good match; take a look for yourself.

We don’t get to see Bingo every day, but sometimes when we walk past his house I can see him and the little Yorkie who lives with him through the window. Bingo would like to come out, but he sits and yearns quietly, while that Yorkie, who even doesn’t like to go out, squeals away like a pig. I don’t know how Bingo puts up with it.

Just past Bingo’s house the other day we also ran into my walking-stick friends, Brooke and Jan, whom we hadn’t seen in a while. They don’t even have a dog, and yet they’re out walking in the park practically every day, always armed with their collapsible walking sticks and Brooke’s plastic bag with dog treats. Their treats are tiny compared to  the huge Milk Bones that Mr. UPS throws at me, but Brooke’s treats are chewy and taste great. I get excited whenever I see those walking sticks approaching…even when it’s not them.  When it is them, they are as excited to see me as I am to see them. And now that he knows me, Brooke makes me work; I have to pay with at least a good sit and a gentle swipe of his hand before I get my prize.

Squaring off

Squaring off with Bingo

I guess I’m picky about people and dogs. Some people I instinctively don’t like, seemingly for no reason. I bark at random people on the sidewalk or trail all the time. With others I just wiggle my butt the first time I see them.  As far as dogs go, I like playing with dogs my own size, and I know my limit. Whenever I see that neighborhood Great Dane Titan coming my way, for instance, I take as wide a berth around as possible. Mike has told me Titan is friendly and gentle and wants to meet me, but I’m not buying it. For the time being, I’ll stick to Bingo and forgo the squash.

 

 

Chloë Digs in for the Holidays

I could tell the holidays were winding down when I didn’t hear the UPS truck roar by as often. For at least two weeks, my UPS Guy brought that truck around so often that I was leading Mike around the neighborhood on our afternoon walks instead of into the park. That way I could search a broader area for extra UPS sightings, and I was being rewarded with surprising frequency. One day we stumbled upon his big brown truck well on the other side of Magnolia Boulevard — and as soon as my guy saw me, he tossed me two biscuits, which is one more than he gives most dogs he meets on his route. He calls me “Killer.”

 Eagle on snag

Eagle on snag

Before the stockings and holiday toys went back into hiding, I had a good time around here doing my favorite things: taking walks (we saw an eagle) and hanging around the house watching TV, reading and doing pretty much nothing, with occasional  treats thrown in for me. Heather finally forked over the doggie pastry (carrots and cheese, and shaped liked a burger!) that her co-worker Jamie had sent my way as a gift (Thank YOU!). I scarfed it down in under 10 seconds, so quickly that Mike had no chance of getting a blog photo of me looking at it. Therefore, I’m with Oliver Twist: Can I have some more?

Inhaling doggie pastry treat

Inhaling a doggie pastry treat

Bedtime reading

Bedtime reading

I also had to spend a lot of time guarding Heather, who wasn’t feeling all that great for a few days. I could tell that I needed to measure the regularity of her breathing, so I glommed onto her as closely as possible and stayed there except for meals or when Mike forced me go out for a walk. When we got back, it was right back to my post.

In fact, the only time Heather and I stopped watching Law & Order: SVU and NCIS reruns and left the bedroom was when Heather’s sister Sammy came to visit. Since Sammy had made a 12-hour ferry-and-driving trek all the way down from Powell River, B.C., I guess Heather felt compelled to show her a good time.  We had fun going on walks (especially to the Arboretum) and riding around in the car, and we also watched movies in front of the downstairs fireplace, which is always a fine activity as far as I’m concerned.

Even though I could tell Sammy was not that  much of a dog person, I know I can eventually win her over with my obedience and cuteness compared to other dogs. She was already coming around to acceptance towards the end of her visit, and posing for our photo was a significant step in the right direction. She’ll no doubt become a regular follower of my exciting adventures before she knows what hit her.

Chloë fools around with Sammy and antler.

Chloë fools around with Sammy and antler.

 

Chloë Knows What Brown Does for Her

One day last summer when Mike and Heather were away, my good friend Lynn was accompanying me on an evening walk down our street when I stopped in my tracks and cocked my head, like I do when I catch a whiff of Coon Cat, Beau or Mittens, but not this time. No, it was the UPS truck, and it was stopped around the corner on the street next to the park. I know its sound anytime, anywhere. But I just couldn’t pull Lynn around the corner fast enough to catch it before it drove away.

Napping one afternoon

Napping one afternoon

A few weeks ago Heather was off from work for a holiday, and we were napping in the afternoon when I heard the UPS truck rolling up our street. I barked, jumped down, ran to the front door and raised a holy ruckus.  Mike knows this routine well, but Heather didn’t quite know what to make of it when I burst forth from under the covers. The mailman dropping the mail through the door slot usually gets just one bark, but when my UPS  Guy comes down the street he gets a nonstop burst of barking and squealing. Mike knows he has to leash me up, get the front door open and hang on as I bolt for the brown truck. If I can get out there and be seen before the UPS Guy gets back into his truck and leaves, he’ll take a huge Milk Bone dog biscuit out of his shirt pocket and toss it on the ground in front of me.  He’s the best.

It’s not always bickies and roses, though. On the day described above, Heather didn’t get me out of the house fast enough (like napping is  more important than the UPS truck? Please!), and the UPS truck pulled away without my guy seeing me.  But that’s OK–he’s makes up for it by leaving a treat outside my door when we aren’t home, even if his delivery isn’t for us. It’s happened more than once.

Even worse, if you can believe it:  Sometimes I actually see a UPS truck that has a different driver. When I rush up to the truck and get a cold stare, I don’t take it well. But the absolute worst is when a FedEx truck tries to fool me. Unlike all the garbage trucks and recycling trucks and the landscapers who bring noisy tools in their noisy trucks,  FedEX trucks sound similar to UPS. One day I was so sure it was my UPS guy that I made my usual ruckus, and when Mike hustled me out the front door, I saw the truck was white, not brown. I was crushed. Thankfully, FedEx doesn’t come around very often. Seattle is a UPS town.

The other day I scored big. I heard the UPS truck roll up our street and stop, and this time it was downhill from our house, so I had plenty of time to get Mike outside and position myself near the truck door. My UPS Guy came down the steps from his delivery and tossed me a bickie as he climbed back into his truck. While I was still chewing, he re-emerged with a second delivery for a house across the street. What timing! By the time he got back to the truck again, I was done with the first biscuit, and he tossed me another.

Oh. My. God.  I thought I had died and gone to heaven.

But you know what? Something topped it the other day. Mike and I were walking in the park in the late afternoon when I thought I heard that telltale sound of my favorite truck whirring by, far  in the distance. The hell with our walk, Mike, I told him in no uncertain terms. We’ve got to get back! And sure enough, when we reached home a cardboard package sat outside our front door with a big Milk Bone on top. I chowed it down even before I heard Mike tell me that the package was also for me:  It was a box full of Visi-Balls, all ready for throwing, fetching and, invariably, losing.

Chloë catches her Visi-Ball.

Oh, well.  Losing them is OK with me, as long as Heather keeps ordering replacements, and they always arrive UPS.