Missing Pomeranian

As you may remember, I had my share of dog stories from my old Oakland neighborhood, which I wrote about in my last book. To continue on the same theme, this morning on my way to the Post Office, a car with three teenagers passed me, windows open, and one of them called out to me: “Have you seen two small black dogs running around?” The subjects in question were a black Pomeranian, and another species that slips my mind. I had to say no to their inquiry, and wish them luck in their endeavor retrieving the runaways. A novel way to search for a missing dog, or dogs as the case may be.

Arriving at the Post Office, there was only one person in front of me, and three clerks at their respective windows — it took less than ten minutes to be invited to step up to the counter, where I was finally able to mail an envelope. This was my second trip here this week. A few days ago, I arrived at noon with the same envelope. There is a sign above the Post Office counters that unequivocally states: “It is our goal to serve you within 5 minutes.” Well, that may be the case, but the usual queue of customers was in front of me and all — yes ALL — counters were unoccupied, leading to speculations on my part with the customer waiting in front of me. Seriously doubting the promise of the sign above the counter now, my envelope and I sadly departed. Back at home, out of sheer curiosity, I looked at other customers thoughts and opinions on a popular online ratings system, as to this particular branch of the Post Office — I will leave the responses I read up to your imagination, but I must say — it was not on the favorable side. Having had success at finally sending off my little envelope today, I admired the large multitude of puffy white clouds above me, and the early white blooming fruit trees, as I stepped out the door.

Almost back at my apartment, I noticed a sign that read: “Keep gate closed – large dog” (Are they left open for small ones? — my prior encounter with the dog searchers may lend credence to this assumption). An ominous warning at the gate — but the supposed large canine must have been napping inside the house.

Have a peaceful, blessed, quiet Sunday

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