So, I meant to write this up last night while it was still fresh in my mind, but as I sat down to surf for the night I get the call that it's beers at the terrace tonight… and well, that trumps all.

Rewinding a bit, Monday had not gone all that swimmingly well and Tuesday morning wasn't getting any better. What I would find out Tuesday morning is that one, the keys to the truck I had yesterday were missing, and two that I had forgot to pick up and scan a collection box on the route I had on Monday. The latter being a cardinal sin of the post office, I thought I'd be on a short leash real quick. However, there were a couple things working for me. First, that was only the second time I had done that route. Granted, that's no excuse, but the first time someone came and looked me up and offered to take the last swing off of me. That would be the swing where when you're done, you get the box. Having never officially completed this route, I didn't know that box existed. However, working against me was the fact that I had cased the route myself that morning so I should have seen and cased in the Collection Box reminder card. Now I'm pretty good at not missing scans and such, so I figure there had to be a problem somewhere. I went back to the case and sure enough, there was no reminder card. You were just supposed to know. In other words, not my fault and they agreed. Phew.

The keys worked out equally as well. Slight goof on my part, but I accidentally put them on the hook for the route I had done all last week. Guess it was a matter of a habit sticking. So when that guy when out to his truck and found the keys didn't work, well it took only a minute or two to realize where the goof was. I'm not the first to have done that, so no big deal there either.

Next tho, the route I had Tuesday I had only done once before as well and I hated it when I did it last, so I wasn't looking forward to today being any better. To make it worse, I would find out when I walk in that they decided today would be the day that they'd rearrange the route to eliminate all the things I had hated about it (well, not just me, but everyone that works on it). It took about 30-40 minutes to get the case in order while the T-6 for the route was setting it all up, something that can't be avoided if that's happening, but the result was that there was only an hour and a half or so for me to case the route. Now, maybe a seasoned pro at their own route can do that, but not me, and especially not when the arrangement is brand new. Nobody there would have done it in any decent time. Basically, I was ass slow and finding stuff since everything was out of order now. I didn't take much out as a result, but I needed to cut it even shorter since we were asked to keep it to 8 hours today, which is 1-2 less than I usually do. Hustle time. On top of that, the postal inspectors are in town this week looking to bust rule breakers, so everything has to be done perfect. No cutting corners while driving, etc… so it'll take extra long to get things done. Just great. NO STRESS TODAY SO FAR!!! And as an added benefit, I could lose my job over the day if I fuck up one iota and they just so happen to be watching me from afar.

And then I get out and indeed, this new organizing is great. Makes the route so much nicer than what I had remembered. So I get almost to the end of my first swing when the title of this entry happens. I hear a dog growl and bark while I'm fingering the mail for the next house in a cul-de-sac. No big deal I think. These dogs are always behind fences yapping with all their might, and I already saw all the fences here, so I think it's nothing.

Nope.

Out of the corner of my eye I see a black blob moving closer. I look up and see the most gigantic black lab charging me with the most ferocious snarling and showing of teeth. I about shit myself. My mind races with all the encounters and things I've known about dogs and in a split second I've decided this dog means business. At the same time I hear the owner shout out something to the dog, but it's not making a difference. I begin to reach for my bag to the dog spray and she yells out “NO!! Don't spray him!!” Immediately I'm thinking, “ok, she saw me reach for the bag. She knows what I'm about to do. If she's asking me not to spray, this has happened before and it probably ended in a spraying. is he nice and this is just the worst display of friendly ferocity I've ever seen? …. fuck it, he's getting sprayed b/c i don't see this guy stopping.” By now he's about 6 feet from me and while trying to blindly grab the can, the mail under my arm falls to the ground and I fumble with the spray to get into my hand and pointed at the dog. A split second later I hit the trigger.

SPLASH!!!!!

All over my palm with a few random streams splashing outwards from it. FUCK!!!!! I pulled it out backwards!!! Somehow tho, these couple of actions startled the dog causing him to stop and flinch. Meanwhile the owner yells out again to not spray him and just as she finishes that thought, the dog rips in again and this time he's about 3 feet and it looks like he's about to rip into my crotch or something. I managed to flip the can around and pulled again. A direct 1/2 second to a second or so stream to the left eye of the dog.

Wow, bullseye. Never thought that would happen. I think I won.

Nothing happened. He pulled his head back and to the left, but then he just reared up and looked at me like, “oh you're a dead man now!” and just barked out as loud as possible.

OH MY GOD!!!

At this point I was ready to drop everything and throw down with this dog. Kick his face and tackle him by his neck and just start choking I'm thinking.

Luckily right then the owner came and yanked him down. She's kneeling there trying to calm him and asking me “OH, why'd you have to do that. He (or she… can't quite remember) wasn't going to bite. I'm so sorry.” Yadda yadda yadda. Meanwhile, I'm absolutely pumped by this point and still have the can pointed straight at the dog's head. I'm not convinced he's done yet and am ready for him. But after about 15 seconds of her rubbing the dog, he finally starts to feel it, whimpers and starts rubbing the side of his head into the grass. At the same time, all the little paper cuts and crap on my hand is now completely covered in concentrated petroleum and is beginning to burn as well.

Then comes the big surprise. This woman was a carrier in Stoughton. Double you tee eff. YOU KNEW THIS WOULD COME DOWN TO A SPRAYING OR WORSE!!! Jesus… you should know that you get your mail in the morning and should probably keep that gate closed and your dog in it. So things start getting all apologetic, I say that was the first dog I've ever sprayed (and really spraying a dog isn't something that happens often, if ever. Some have never even had to do it, or had to only do it once over an entire career), didn't really want to do it, but you gotta know my perspective. She acknowledges that I couldn't have known, especially with his behavior, and that the post office will tell you that it's your fault if you get bit since you've got the ability to ward that off, etc, etc. So she basically accepted responsibility, but wished it hadn't happened and I say the same. She then offers to help me clean myself up and turns on the garden hose so I can get the burning stench off my hands. I then am told how this has happened before, how she has come home for the day to find the dog's water bowl filled with red liquid, how he used to hide under the patio and jump out at people, scaring the hell out of them which ended up in a spraying. Somehow, I guess this dog is just dumb as a rock and hasn't figured out that the guy with the blue bag carrying stuff will hurt you. So another minute or so of cleanup and I'm on my way, my chest still beating hard.

Honestly, I have yet to understand the redeeming qualities of big dogs like that who have the ability to kill someone, and you want them as a pet. Boxers, pit bulls, or any of those overly aggressive dogs. I just don't get it.