In the Mailbag.

We checked the mail today from our two week trip. In it, we had eight Christmas cards from friends, family, and Alice's teacher. The majority of these were not only addressed to the Human Male and me, but also to Alice. In fact, the card from my sister was actually addressed to "Alice's People". I truly love how everyone includes her. I know she couldn't care less about getting a card in the mail (unless it's from the Red Cross, whose stationery is apparently the best dog treat flavor ever), but it means the world to me that other people care about her enough to include her in things like that.

One letter in particular got me. Right before Christmas, I sent a donation to Alice's shelter-- a kick-off to my year-long resolution to pay off the amount that they spent on her medical bills while she was there. I sent the check in one of Alice's Christmas cards, and included a note on how she is, what she's been doing, and thanking them for letting us adopt her. The shelter sent me a receipt back, and Ray, the lady who did our adoption, wrote a really nice note to us on it (and yes, included Alice on the envelope). She thanked us for the card and donation, and said that she always likes getting updates on "our adopted and loved pets". She signed it with her name, adding "I did your adoption!" after it.

I found it incredibly kind that Ray took the time to write us a note, but I have to say, it still strikes me as funny that she felt the need to provide us with a reference of who she is. Getting Alice is one of the major moments of my life, and there's no way that I could possibly forget who Ray is. Personally, I feel like she was just doing her job that day, and there's no reason she should've remembered us. I almost think I'd feel the same way if Oprah came up to me at a business function, introduced herself, first name and last, and explained that she hosted a talk show for a living and described its premise, if that makes any sense. It's all about perspective, I suppose.