Maddie and the Mail

I think of my dog as an original, so I always teased her about her clichéd obsession with mail carriers. How did she know to hate the lowly letter carrier? Her hatred took root in puppyhood when we lived in the Hessel Park apartments. My apartment was across an entryway from the four mailboxes of the units in my building, so the mail carrier never actually touched the wall adjoining our apartment. But I heard from neighbors that when the mail truck pulled up, Maddie started barking and didn’t stop until it pulled away.

The barking grew especially frantic when the carrier was in our entryway. She didn’t bark at random visitors or the many other vehicles that came through the complex. But she always knew the mail truck sound. Even if we were out on a walk away from our house, if she saw or heard a mail truck, she’d strain to get at it like it had just threatened to take her food dish away. We used to sometimes wonder if she had mail ordered a big shipment of food that had never arrived. The sin against her by the Post Office must have been something of an unforgiveable nature along those lines.


Then when we moved to Daniel Street, our mail came through a slot in the front door, and her obsession rose to a new level. Now she could actually devour the mail as it came into the house. When she heard the truck pull up (it always parked right in front of our house), she’d jump to the best vantage point in the living room--usually the chest in front of the window or the arm of the couch--straining to get a glimpse of the mail carrier. Then she’d run to the mail slot, waiting for something to come through. After a few seconds of waiting, back to the couch. Back to the door. Repeat until mail actually arrives.

Some letter carriers tossed a treat in for her, which while thoughtful always bothered me a little since they hadn’t checked with me to find out if I approved. Others toyed with her, opening the flap a little, playing tug of war with the envelopes. She would be furious, growling and barking to the best of her ability with a stack of envelopes filling her jaws. It is sobering just how powerful those jaws could be. She could put tooth marks through half-inch-thick magazines. Mail with those marks was referred to as “Maddie canceled” in our house.

Whenever we returned home after being away for a day or just an afternoon, if we were absent during mail delivery time, Maddie's first thought on getting inside would be to race to the front door to bark at any mail that had arrived. Of course, if I ever did receive something edible in the mail, that piece of mail would be obliterated by the time I got home.