Gwendolyn Speers hated her job. "Rain and sleet and snow, my ass!" she always said. Every day a juggling act of snarling dogs, grumbling customers and the Post Master from hell to see her out the PO door every morning.
When it came to dogs there were none she loathed so much as Chihuahuas. Bald, grouchy, sharp toothed Cretans. Many an hour she'd spent backed against a garage or porch railing kicking wildly at some yapping, attacking Mexican rat.
There was one time she'd had a fleeting sensation one of those monsters was going to win. No one was home at the house where she was delivering. No one was EVER home anymore. Just the damn dogs. So this Chihuahua backed her into a screen door. She kicked at it but it was fast. It nipped her foot and she could see where its teeth scratched the leather on her new shoes! "Damn you!" she screamed. "Your family needs these crappy magazines. These bills. I'm just doing my job."
Dog didn't care. It lunged again. Gwendolyn kicked. A clean gut shot. Air whooshed out of that rat and she watched him sail over the railing. Thing is, he never got up again. For one brief moment she thought about making a report. But anything could happen to a dog with a bad attitude. Anything.
The hell with it. She stuffed bills, magazines and ads into the mailbox. It was a dog eat dog world.