(Not long ago the Postal Service put a note in all our home mailboxes: "Don't bite the hand that brings your mail." This was addressed to dog owners along the delivery route. My youngest daughter's memories of a summer job at the Mount Rainier Post Office portray the situation with sympathy and understanding. Jo Campbell) As a mail carrier in an area rich in stray dogs and other uncontrolled beasts and monsters, I can say that animals know no bias based on sex. On first entering the U.S. Postal Service's employ you are put through a training program designed to instill enough paranoia to discourage even Francis of Assisi. There is a period when the veteran mail carriers tell tales of the early days (B.R. = Before Repellent.. a sort of Mace-type chemical issued on the first day on the job.) These tales, I found, dealt with common, everyday occurrences. My own experiences categorize them not as dog problems, but as owner problems. It was suggested that one way to deal with an owner (if one could be found) was to find his car. Then if you were approached by his dog, the carrier would immediately and with great force and clatter jump on the hood. Unfortunately, I've not been in a position to use this technique effectively. I have, on occasion, used the Mace on a few dogs who, after being sprayed, ran to their homes for comfort, rubbing the formula on their owners. I found this quite a pleasant way of dealing with the problem. I'm amazed at the stupidity of people who believe that their faithful carrier is safe approaching the doorway if the owner is anywhere within the sight of the ravening dog. As I look eye-to-eye with their collarless monsters, I wonder how this owner is going to control the animal from across the yard. I feel the urge to spray the owner, this time. As I take a swift three leaps across the yard, this beaming owner tells me how good the dog is about letting the family know they have visitors. I ask the owner to please take the dog off my leg. High boots, I find, are a necessary part of my outfit. Luckily, it is some time before new carriers have to wear uniforms. Dog owners seem to think that the fact that the carrier is wearing a uniform is reason enough for their dog's going into a frothing fit. They will glibly explain this as I stand in plain view -- no uniform, living proof that the dog is going to react to anyone coming into the yard -- or into the neighborhood. This surprises and miffs some owners who rely on the "uniform syndrome" as something out of their hands. They like to feel that the whole thing is quite beyond their control; in fact, I would say that they avoid control of their dogs whenever possible. With all these things to consider, how could a mail carrier or a meter reader, etc. love animals? In fact, I wonder if such people do not actually begin to emit a smell after awhile -- sort of "Eau de Paranoia." Do the owners never consider the possibility of lawsuits? Most carriers would be happy to have their trousers replaced. I think my worst scares have been caused by the folks who don't tell you they have dogs until too late. And the dogs don't hear you until you are on the porch, beneath which they are sleeping. Trapped! People depend on the mail's coming at certain times so they can time the letting-out and keeping-in of their dogs. Uncharted substitutions can create problems. How do you catch an escaped Irish Setter who doesn't know you? You can't just drop the mail and pursue him. It just isn't done... you know; ... "hail and sleet and running Setters..." and all that? You run with a full pack and lots of stuff clutched in your hand. Once I just sat plunk on the ground and called. The Setter came to me! The burden of the pack, however, could create quick-draw problems if an escapee didn't want to be caught. Did you know that one man's dog will protect the entire neighborhood, following the mail carrier from house to house? The Post Office tells you just to pass by houses where reside threatening dogs, but how do you cope with the canine vigilante? There is no such thing as a stranger-dog recognizing a "dog person." My clothes have to be full of the scent of my own dogs. This means nothing as long as I got out of that little red-white-and-blue truck and carry that leather bag. All these things really make you mad, but you don't want to do anything to the dogs. They aren't ownerless strays. Some owners like to tell you the sweet things to say to their dogs if the owners happen to be away. "Just call him Poopsie!" Well, you could Poopsie yourself to death if the owner is away; the dog will kill you. Your carrier doesn't want to hear this stuff. I wonder if some owners know how their dogs act when they are away. Some do you a favor by putting the mailbox on the fence; a three-foot fence for a four-foot German Shepherd! Unless you are very fast, he reaches right over and grabs your magazines. All of this explains why I was so relieved when registration time came, I could turn in my bag and go quietly back to school. Copyright © 1996 Deborah Campbell Table of Contents