On Dec. 21st, I took Jasper on a walk that also stopped at the local post office, where I had to buy some stamps and drop off some Christmas cards. At first, I tied Jasper up outside the post office on a bike rack, but he looked so forlorn and vulnerable out there on the urban sidewalk that I decided to bring him into the lobby instead, come what may.
The lobby was jumping with Christmas-shipping traffic. Jasper was nervous about being in close quarters with so many strange people, so he pulled me on his leash over to a ceiling-to-floor window, silently pleading with me to take him outside instead. I was determined to keep him there, though, so he settled into a uncomfortable sitting pose, as people buzzed all about him.
The fellow ahead of me in line was trying to ship an unusually large box. I understood from his conversation with the postal clerk that there was a tricycle in the box. The postal clerk quoted a $90 charge to ship the box. Crestfallen, the man asked "is that the cheapest possible rate?" Indeed, it was. His options were take the box elsewhere, to FedEx or UPS, where shipping rates would be higher, or not to ship the box at all, or to accept the charge. Explaining further, the man said shipping the box was his wife's idea (I bet the tricycle was hardly worth more than $90), but since there were so few days left before Christmas he had few options, so he surrendered and paid the rate.
When I reached the exhausted postal clerk, she looked at Jasper, and quoted the rule, "dogs are not allowed in the lobby," but uncomfortable Jasper had already been there for some time. Best to quickly finish my business. I smiled, bought some stamps, handed over cards for mailing, and left. I finally took Jasper out into the sunshine, where he ecstatically resumed his mission to sniff and mark every single bush in the neighborhood.
