Special Delivery! by Sue Stauffacher Page B

“Kitties have little hairs on their tongue so they can clean their fur.”
    “This is what happens when you explore the gray area, Fred.” Mama handed Daddy a slice of steaming ginger cake.

    Daddy rubbed his bristly chin. “You’re right, Fayola. I didn’t think about the lonely part. Lonely is a powerful feeling.”
    “Well, I’ll tell you who’s going to be lonely, and that’s the crow. Those two need to stick to their own kind.” Grandma took a cucumber slice off her eye and bit into it. “Is that clock right? Two p.m. already? I’ve got to get going. Bob’s picking me up in the Bonneville and we’re going out to Crane’s Pie Pantry. I am so hungry for rhubarb-apple pie, I’ve been dreaming about it lately.”
    “Knock, knock. Just taking my afternoon break and I thought I smelled …” Mr. Sanders peeked around the door before letting himself in. “Ah yes! Ginger cake.”
    “Please come in, Mr. Sanders,” Mama said. She sliced a big piece of cake and set it on a plate.
    “Doug, can I ask you something? Have you been able to deliver mail to Mrs. Sampson’s mailbox yet?” Daddy handed Mr. Sanders a fork and a napkin.
    “Goodness, heavens no.” Mr. Sanders took a big bite of cake. He mmm’ed and swallowed. “I can’t get near the thing. I give it to her neighbor, Mrs. Hogue, which isn’t strictly legal, but it solves the problem for a short time.”
    “I bet you call that the gray area,” Grandma said. “It’s not legal, but it makes sense for a short time. Hmmmph.” She took another bite of cucumber.
    “Well, we are trying to do our job, Mrs. Carter, and there are certain instances—”
    “My son here has gotten lost in the gray area because Mrs. Sampson wants to keep her crow as a pet.”
    “And so the adult crows will never know it’s back out in the big wide world?” Mr. Sanders had been ready to take another big bite of cake, but he set it back on his plate. “Oh dear. That would be a problem.”
    “Let go and sit down, bucko,” Daddy said to Razi. “I want to eat my cake, too.” Razi unhitched himself from Daddy’s belt loops and pulled up a chair.
    Daddy took a bite. “Mmm. Razi, you need to try this batch. Oh, it’s so good. What time do you get finished today, Doug? Would you be willing to go with us to try to convince Mrs. Sampson that keeping the crow is not a good idea?”
    Another piece of cake traveled up to Mr. Sanders’s mouth and back down to his plate. Keisha noticed thathis duties to the United States Postal Service came even before his love for Mama’s cooking.
    “I will. This really has to end,” he said. “There’s nothing in our rule book about crows, but if birds fall under the ruling of nuisance animals, they have to be eliminated.”
    “What a shame,” Mama said. “Those crows are only trying to protect the baby they think is still inside. Will you take a piece for the boys, Mr. Sanders?”
    “If you could wrap it up, I know they would be most grateful for the home cooking, Mrs. Carter.”
    “Of course.” Mama wrapped a slice of cake in an old dishcloth that Keisha knew he would return clean in the next day or two.
    Mr. Sanders said good-bye and hurried off to finish delivering his mail.
    “Alice, please have a piece,” Mama said, cutting another one. “You look bony to me.”
    “I’m not bony. I’m svelte, Fayola. And I’m waiting for the pie. I told you. I’ve been dreaming about it.”
    “Been dreaming about pie, Mom? Or is it Bob you’ve been dreaming about?” Daddy asked.
    “Very funny, mister. That’s enough of that.”
    “Oh my goodness.” Keisha sat up straight. “In all the skunk excitement, I almost forgot. You were going to give me an update on the puppy!”
    “Keisha Carter, you’ve got puppies on the brain.” Grandma tossed the rest of the cucumbers in the compost bucket and downed her pomegranate juice. “Didn’t you see her gray beard? That dog is no puppy. I’d say she’s seven at least. That’s