I’ve already explained,’ Mae said impatiently. ‘Ted’s my dog. The parcel’s from my mother.’
Mae gestured at the scruffy little mutt at her feet, hoping his cute upturned face would soften the sorting officer’s resolve. ‘It’s his birthday,’ she muttered feebly.
The man peered over the counter at Ted with a look of mild contempt.
‘Correos policy,’ he repeated. ‘A signature is needed from the recipient… and ID.’ He folded his arms in a gesture of bleak finality.
Mae tutted and strutted from the post office.
‘How ridiculous!’ she grumbled as she set off down Passeig de Gràcia, Ted pattering at her side.
Mae had moved to Barcelona the previous year after uni. She’d found a cheap apartment and a job teaching English as a foreign language. Then she’d found Ted, half-starving, under a bush in Ciutadella Park. She’d wrapped him in her cardigan and taken him to her apartment, where he’d instantly made himself at home.
Mae had spent a week posting ads around the city, in an attempt to trace Ted’s owner, but without
