“What do you do if your human is a mailman?” Buddy asked his best pal.

Lola stopped sniffing his butt in surprise. “What? No way your human is a mailman, he carries those little treats in his pocket!”

She bounced around Buddy before pausing. “Unless those are poisoned.”

“I hope not; I ate the whole packet last night, I was so stressed. I’ve been interrogating his shoes and they do smell faintly of bike oil, the mailman’s preferred transport.” Buddy huffed and circled a tree in thought.

“Hmm.” Lola circled the tree too, mostly looking into the branches for squirrels.

“What about his pants?”

Buddy lay in a patch of dirt. “They smell normal, but the nice ones in the wardrobe are covered in hairs that aren’t mine! That’s how I knew.”

“Maybe the cat was messing with you?”

Buddy scratched his left ear, collar jingling. “No, Marvin has good intel. He’s the one that told me about the pie that was unattended on the table! Best day of my life.”

Lola ran around in circles, a blur of fur against the dry grass. Buddy just watched her, knowing that her brain needed to be booted up first before a thought could occur.

Then Lola stopped and sat down, looking across the park, where the humans mingled in the distance.

“Eat the mail.”

Buddy thought about it, and his tail began to wag. “You are a genus, Lola! If I eat the mail that my human will stop delivering it!”

“I know I am.” She panted, long tongue lolling. “Want to roll in poop?”

“Heck yeah!”