Family stories were always part of our annual "get together". Each holiday season our JONES group of folks would gather to exchange some of the last years special events. When uncle Malcolm, uncle Gayle, and my Dad got to talking, dog stories always seem to enter the equation. This was expected of course since all three worked at our Winchester post office. In these stories "dogs" were the ones who seized with the teeth or jaws so as to enter, grip, or wound any of these three gentlemen listed above. Each would have their own dog stories to keep the family up to date on their appointed rounds. Dad carried just about every postal route in the town, and completed his days as a "Rural Letter Carrier". [Some forty years to be exact.] At any rate, the following picture was taken on one of those rural letter days:
A bird in the box instead of a dog bite on the legs. Don't remember any stories being told about this mail box delivery. You've heard the motto : "Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds". Well this was mostly true for my Dad expect for dog bites, and this bird in the mail box.
