"I would never tell anyone about that," I objected, but she just rolled her eyes at me. "I don't care if you do," she insisted. "I think it was hilarious."

Well, folks, since I got the lady's permission.... It was a little over a year ago when Maeve called me at my office with the news that her beloved dog, Seamus (pronounced Shay-mus), a beautiful golden retriever, had died suddenly. After talking for a few minutes, she explained that she arranged to have Seamus buried on a friend's estate, but first had to buy a doggie coffin at a pet cemetery in Calabasas. Realizing how rattled she was, I asked if she was going to be okay with the hour drive on her own. Even after she said yes, I knew what was the better plan of action.

"Wait there," I said. "I'm going to pick you up and I'll drive you." When I arrived at Maeve's West Hollywood townhouse, I discovered we would have another passenger named Lily, a golden retriever belonging to one of Maeve's famous friends.

"Lara Flynn Boyle left her dog with me so I wouldn't be lonely," Maeve explained. "Do you mind if she comes along?"

"If Lily doesn't get upset while we're buying a doggie coffin, I'm good," I assured and the three of us were on our way. However, halfway to Calabasas, Maeve realized she had left her purse behind. "I don't have my checkbook," she lamented. "The place closes in a half hour so we might as well forget it."

That's when I came up with my bright idea: "I'll just put in on my credit card."

"I'll write you a check when we get back to my place," Maeve said gratefully. We continued on with our quest, arrived at the pet cemetery in time, picked up the coffin, and $300 later, we returned to West Hollywood without Lily getting the least bit frazzled. Maeve gladly wrote me the check, as well as treating me to dinner at a bistro around the corner from her place. Three days later, I deposited the check into my bank account and a week later, as you already know, I was notified that the check didn't clear due to insufficient funds.

So, what to do? Of course, Maeve must have been informed of the snafu, so should I wait for her call? I decided to contact her first. Maeve still chuckles over the message I left on her voice mail: "Hi, Maeve. I just wanted to check in and see how you're holding up and also if there's anything I can do for you. And by the way, the check you wrote to me bounced."

I wasn't at all surprised when she called back right away, but what I especially loved was Maeve's total lack of embarrassment. In fact, she was laughing. "I really screwed you over, didn't I?" she chortled and then explained how she had used the wrong bank account. "I did the same thing to my contractor."

Of course, Maeve replaced the rubber check with another one, which sailed through this time without any problems. And guess what? I would do it for her all over again, even if Lara Flynn Boyle's pooch shed all over my backseat.