By Anne Sullivan
““Hey, Sylvia,” I said as I got out of White Truck. “Guess what I found at the Post Office.”
”Was it a letter?” she asked, tail high and wagging. “A letter for me?”
“No, it wasn’t.” I said, sitting down on the porch bench. “It’s something even better.”
“What?” she asked as she tried to leap into my lap.
“Down,” I said automatically. “Look.” I held up a sheet of stamps. “It’s a dog and cat issue of new stamps telling patrons to support animal rescues.”
“How nice,” Sylvia said with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm as she glanced at the pictures of adorable dogs and cats eagerly awaiting adoption. The dogs looked friendly and eager while the cats looked like they were sitting for a prison photo. “Look at them,” I said as I thrust the sheet into Sylvia’s face.
Sylvia looked again and turned away to go into her house.
“What’s the matter, Sylvia? Isn’t it wonderful to have stamps honoring dogs and cats?”
“I guess,” she said, lying down with a huge sigh.
“I thought you’d be very interested,” I said. “After all, it’s a step forward for domestic animals.”
“Whatever.”
“Something’s bothering you. What is it?”
“What is it?!” she yelled. “You have to ask? If you really want to know, where’s my picture? I’ll tell you where it is. Nowhere. That’s where.”
“I’m sure they would have used your picture, Sylvia, if they knew who you were.”
“Why didn’t they know? Everyone here knows who I am. That’s not the reason they didn’t use my picture,”
“Well, what do you think is the reason?”
Sylvia bounded out of her house. “You should know. Look at the pictures on these stamps. All those happy dogs and conniving cats have something in common. They’re young. It’s a conspiracy against the aged. I’m surprised you didn’t notice it. Furthermore, you don’t seem upset after I’ve pointed it out.”
“I’ve got many things to be upset about and that doesn’t happen to be one of them.”
“That just shows how shallow and selfish you are,” said Sylvia, retreating once more into her house.
“If you truly believe that you’re a victim of age discrimination, you should fight. Prove the Postal Service wrong.”
Her head popped out of the doghouse. “Do you think I could?”
“I don’t see why not. And you’ll never know if you don’t try.”
The rest of Sylvia emerged from her house. She took a bite of her kibble and thought while chomping. With her mouth full, she said, “I’ll need a good picture. No, make that pictures. Several really good pictures. Do you think you could take them?”
“I could try. You’ll have to sit or stand still and look at the camera, though. And pretend you’re enjoying it.”
“I could do that.”
“And you’d better have a bath first. You want to be clean for a picture shoot.”
“Too cold. Maybe you could just do close-ups of my face. I would consent to washing that part of me.”
“Can you tell me what your idea is?”
“Deluge. I’m going to deluge the Postal Authorities with adorable pictures of me They’ll soon see the error of their ways. They’ll have no choice but to print a new issue of an old dog learning new tricks. They’ll make so much money on that sheet that they won’t have to cut off Saturday service.”
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