It was a beautiful Sunday morning, and Maggie and I were returning from our walk through the woods.We were only a couple of blocks from home when I spotted a cell phone and a credit card sitting on the road.We took them home.We always find amazing things on the street and she looks upon them as a movable feast-a chicken wing here or a barbecue rib  there. I found another cell phone a few years back, too, and called a number in its phone book.I explained the situation to the guy who answered.He said it was his sister's and that he'd come to pick it up, which he did. And that was that.No verbal thank-you, no written thank-you, no "here's a box of chocolates" thank-you. I didn't have time to call anyone on my latest found cell phone.I was pouring myself coffee when it started to shake and dance across the kitchen counter. "Who's this?" someone asked when I picked up. "Who's this?" I countered ."Sarah?" She was surprised at my knowing her name until she realized her name was on the credit card."Could you send them to me?" she asked. She lives in Arlington, which is 2 miles from my house. "Hmm, no, "I replied, adding that I thought she could come to get them, and that if I wasn't at home, they would be in my mailbox. A day later, when I was out for a run, someone got them back.There wasn't even a piece of paper put in the mailbox with "Thanks" on it.In this age of e-mail and cell phone, there's really no excuse.Years ago, I found something more precious than a $100 bill on the street:a driver's license.I saw  that its owner lived a couple of blocks from me, so I called him up.He asked whether I could slip the license through his front door. "I guess I could, "I replied. And that was that. What is the relationship between Maggie and the writer?
Wife and husband Daughter and father Teacher and student Master and pet dog