Old Barnaby loved his hound, Buster, more than life itself—which was ironic, because Buster spent every waking moment trying to end the lives of everyone else. The beast had a terrifying habit of attacking literally anything that moved.

“Get him fixed,” his buddies advised. “It drains the aggression right out of ’em. He’ll turn into a total pacifist.”

Hoping for some peace, Barnaby took the dog to the vet for the procedure. A few days later, he was relaxing in his living room when the mailman stepped onto the front porch. In a horrific flash of fur and fury, Buster launched himself right through the wire screen door and savagely tackled the mail carrier into the bushes.

Barnaby sprinted outside, dragged the lunging dog off, and began frantically apologizing to the bruised postman.

“I am so incredibly sorry!” Barnaby pleaded, near tears. “I don’t know what else to do! My friends swore that if I had him fixed, he’d stop attacking people!”

The mailman painfully brushed himself off, glared at the snarling dog, and growled, “Next time, buddy, try having his damn teeth pulled. Because I knew the second he broke through that door, he wasn’t coming out here to screw me.”