I don’t know how that dog does it. I just wish I had his gift. As readers of this blog know, Pablo gets regular treats from our mailman. It used to be just when we ran into him on his rounds, but lately he’s taken to leaving treats in our mailbox nestled among the letters. Can a dog be more spoiled? Apparently yes.
A sore point for Pablo is when our mailman has a day off or is on vacation. He believes that government employees are working on our dime and therefore should be available 24/7. So when he comes across some unfamiliar mailman handing out the mail, Pablo doesn’t understand why biscuits aren’t forthcoming. He stops, head cocked, waiting to be recognized. He often is–but still no treat.
Until today. The substitute mailman not only greeted Pablo by name–and how did he know it?–he then said, “Oh, you must want a treat,” reached into his bag and gave him one. Pablo was overjoyed. The world was finally coming around to his way of thinking: Feed the pug.
I suspect our regular guy clued the newbie in. Pablo must have his treats–or else!