Special Delivery

Even before lockdowns, even before the Pandemic, I was a big advocate of home delivery services.

I wouldn’t say I’m a true recluse, but I do tend to disappear from public view on a very regular basis. I wasn’t at all taken aback by the idea of getting online to order food and other necessities.

But I didn’t order this.

The box sat on the stoop, mocking me. It was about three feet by two feet and wrapped in brown paper. You know the kind I mean if you’re old enough to remember the days when the supermarkets packed your groceries in brown paper bags instead of deadly plastic. It looked as if two or three bags had been disassembled and taped together to cover the box completely.

Weird.

I looked for the giant smile that would tell me I had books and snack foods, but it wasn’t there.

They don’t wrap their boxes in brown paper.

I had heard the whirring of the drone that dropped it. Contrary to popular belief, they're not exactly subtle. Not the ones I've seen zooming around, anyway, although a lot of those were little more than toys.

The damn thing was making me uneasy. The world has gotten strange. What might be in there?

Still, I propped the door open, admonished the dog when she looked like she might make a break for it, and brought the box inside.

Jolene danced around the box. Nine times out of ten, packages included a doggie treat or two, so she was excited.

I turned the box over and over. No label. Something was thumping around in there, though whatever it might be wasn’t heavy at all.

“What fresh hell is this?” I asked aloud.

Jolene stared at me: (Are you talking to me? What do I know? I’m a dog!) She resumed her dance, tail wagging at one end, tongue wagging on the other. (Open it, open it, open it! Treats!)

Trepidation gripped my heart. “We should wait for Trent,” I told the dancing spaniel.

Jolene shook her head and her whole body followed. Tags on her collar jingled. (Bad idea, bad idea. Open it now!)

“What is up with you, Jolene, Jolene?” I asked. “Did you order this?”

It was the lack of labels that gave me cold chills. Drone deliveries were not at all the norm in this neck of the woods. Besides, even a drone needs an address, right? Where the hell did it come from?

I gave it a shake.

Something inside whined.

“Oh, crap!” I leapt backward, and even Jolene looked surprised.

We exchanged puzzled looks.

“Did you hear that?”

Jolene moved closer to the box, sniffing suspiciously.

Scratch, scratch, scratchity scratch.

This time it was Jolene leaping backwards, and with a comical “Eeep!” for good measure. If I hadn’t worked myself into a state of near-panic, I probably would have laughed.

“I think there’s something alive in there,” I told my shaking best friend. “And we are going to wait for Daddy!”

We left the box by the door and retreated to my office. Jolene walked in circles a few times and then, decisively, pushed the door shut with her nose.

That did make me laugh.

I tried not to think about the box as I worked.

I refreshed my computer and started reading through the transcript:

“Patient is a well-nourished Asian-American female, six years and seven months old, who is here for her wellness checkup. She is accompanied by—”

Who would send us a box with no label?

“—her mother, who states the that child has been in good health since her last visit—”

Did I really hear scratching? Did something really whine?

“Blood pressure—”

If there’s something alive in there, can it breathe?

I can’t code when I’m this distracted!

I pushed back from the desk and stood up. Jolene jumped to her feet.

I went to the kitchen and got the box cutter, promising myself I would cut with care. Jolene appeared reluctant but determined, and stayed by my side as I marched over to the box.

I found the taped-together seam of the brown paper. Who uses packing tape on paper? I shrugged and just ripped the paper off.

Yes, there were definite sounds of scratching and whining.

I looked at Jolene. “What did you do, girl?”

She gave me a long, offended look. (Who, me?)

I carefully cut the tape holding the edges of the box together. I already knew what I was going to find.

What I wasn’t sure of was who was responsible for leaving this treasure on my doorstep.

I pushed back the flaps.

Yep.

Puppies!

“Jolene?”

The astonished dog hung her head over the edge of the box. Her tail began to wag, and she nudged the babies with her nose.

I was doomed.

“Jolene?”

(It wasn’t me, it wasn’t me, thanks Mom!)

That tail, though! Thump, thump, thump.

Really and truly doomed.

Trent is going to get it when he gets home.

I dragged the box into the kitchen. No carpet. I was already trying to remember where I put Jolene’s leftover potty pads.

I was also plotting revenge on Trent, because—who else could have done it?

Puppies.

Oh, well. I do love me some puppies.

It was time for some cute fun. If you enjoyed this little story, please scroll down and click that heart button!

Times are never expected, but ALWAYS appreciated.

Thank you!

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