Being nice is free

So, I have this dog that barks a little, right? OK, she barks a lot. In fact, sometimes I look out the window to see what she is barking at and the street, the yard, the trees, and the sky are empty of all creatures great and small. Maybe she is barking at a leaf. Or a blade of grass. Or the wind. Or the air. Or the color blue. Maybe she is barking at the possibility that there will soon be something to bark about.

So you can imagine what happens when anyone dares come up on the porch. She goes completely mental. A frenzy of outraged barking.

Yesterday I came home and UPS had delivered a package from Zappos. Perched on top of the box: A milkbone.

Seriously, how nice is that? My dog barks at you, so you bring her a treat? I opened the door without moving the box and let her find it. Maybe she'll remember that treat the next time the UPS guy comes (though I seriously doubt it).