Yesterday evening I was engaging in my daily lovefest on the porch breezeway with my faithful dog Juno when the UPS truck rolled up the driveway. Imagine my surprise when sweet Juno wrested herself free from my soothing embrace and ran to meet the truck. Tank the beagle followed, close on Juno's black feathered heels. How fickle are the canines of the manor!
The big brown truck came to a halt on the other side of the garage. By the time I walked around, Tank was sitting with his nose in the open doorway of that delivery van, and Juno had her front feet on the first step! Somebody really needs to whisper the concept of boundaries to these pooches.
The driver was nowhere to be seen. I knew that the dogs could not have devoured a whole human in that short time span. Besides, they prefer the dog biscuits the regular driver tosses them each time she hops out with a package. I stood there like a child waiting for the ice cream man to show his face. Only more patiently. Huh! It was a new driver, a portly fellow, holding a gossamer envelope that appeared empty of even air.
I apologized for my delivery-truck-etiquette-challenged best friends. "I think they're looking for biscuits. They don't bite."
"I'm out of biscuits. I know Marvel always carries them with her."
"Yeah, I think they were expecting her."
I called the dogs away with me so he could leave. Thank goodness he wasn't the dude who is deathly afraid of dogs. And the eyes he saw in the garage. We don't want to get that reputation of the house with hounds who jump into the truck. That would cut down on the two or three packages that Genius receives every week. This one was some kind of clear cover stuff for his new phone.
Our dogs would welcome robbers as long as dog biscuits were the payoff. They'd probably lend themselves as pack mules to carry our valuables out to the getaway car.