Across communities, dedicated workers continue their daily rounds, ensuring deliveries reach their destinations.

However, they face an unexpected challenge that poses a serious risk.

New measures are being introduced to address the issue, including an unconventional but practical solution.

The rise in dog attacks on postal workers has become a pressing concern for Australia Post, with the organisation's chief, Paul Graham, revealing some startling statistics.

In just six months leading up to November 2024, there were 1,277 dog-related incidents reported nationwide.

That's an average of 49 attacks per week, or about 10 every single day.

Australia Post has reported a rise in dog attacks on posties, leading to using citronella spray as a deterrent. Credit: Anton Brand / iStock

And according to Mr Graham, the situation has only gotten 'slightly worse.'

During a senate estimates hearing, Graham shared the innovative measures Australia Post has implemented to protect its staff.

Among these, the deployment of citronella spray stands out as a humane and effective deterrent against aggressive canines.

Citronella, known for its strong, lemony scent, is a non-toxic essential oil often used in insect repellents.

When used in spray form, it can help keep dogs at bay without causing them harm.

'We've tried many things,' Mr Graham said, emphasising the trial and error process that led to the adoption of citronella spray.

The safety of postal workers is paramount, and this natural solution seems to be making a positive difference.

In addition to the spray, delivery staff are equipped with hazard devices to log aggressive dog behaviour.

This data helps identify problem areas and supports Australia Post's efforts to hold irresponsible dog owners accountable.

The government-owned enterprise has not shied away from taking legal action, resulting in four successful prosecutions to date.

Mr Graham explained that while the individual postie must initiate the prosecution under the Public Liability Act, Australia Post provides the necessary financial and legal support.

The settlements go directly to the affected postal workers, ensuring they receive compensation for their ordeal.

This approach underscores Australia Post's commitment to its employees' well-being and zero-tolerance policy towards preventable dangers.

But the challenges facing Australia Post don't stop at dog attacks.

Mr Graham spoke candidly about the organisation's financial viability, predicting a 'traditionally profitable' first half for the 2025 financial year and a significant loss in the latter half.

He described the future of Australia Post as ‘challenging,’ citing a generational shift in how customers use local post offices.

He also pointed to the aging demographics of the licensing community and the relentless march towards digitalisation.

Despite these hurdles, Mr Graham assured Australians that mail delivery services would continue.

'Letters will never return to profitability, but I can assure you that Australia Post will continue to deliver mail to every part of the country until the last letter is sent,' he vowed.

Ensuring continued mail delivery is vital, especially for those relying on traditional posts for communication and services.

Key Takeaways

• Australia Post has reported a rise in dog attacks on posties, leading to the use of citronella spray as a deterrent.
• In six months, there were 1277 dog-related incidents, which equates to approximately 49 attacks per week or 10 per day.
• Measures have been implemented, including public prosecutions against dog owners and using hazard devices to log aggressive dog behaviour.
• Australia Post faces financial challenges but pledges to continue delivering mail to all parts of the country despite the decline in the profitability of letter services.

Have you had any experiences with dog-related incidents in your neighbourhood? Or have you noticed your local postie carrying the now-famous citronella spray? Share your stories with us in the comments below.

 

[Yani]

Many many times in this forum people have changed the subject, don't be so rude!

Hello my friend. Please note this is not rude. If yourself or others are unable to stick to the relevant subject/topic matter of the original story, what's the point? I could go on, but again what does personal issues with a Team Global Express's delivery problem have to do with Postie's being bit/attacked by dogs???

 

[bombadier]

Our postie gary never seems to have any probs. He just has to throw the mail into 3 box's on the beginning of our access rd. But most large parcels are delivered by courier and there’ve never seemed to have any probs with ours or neighbours dogs. Did get bailed up in town once, dropped of at mates place after work one night, went to walk up his track and got bailed up by 2 mongrels, stood there shittin myself, what seemed like forever, thinking do I run, chuck my bag at em, or see if I could make it a house's fence and jump it, only one was looking angry and growling the other just a follower, then, didn't really think, just grabbed my lighter out of top pocket and started flicking, they bolted, thank christ I was a smoker, don't think I would have made the fence.

 

[gamiry]

How much do they cost and where do you buy them?????

if you go to a pet shop or often look in mail order catalogues you will find what is often referred to as a "pet trainer". about 3 1/2 inches long about 1 1/2 half wide and costs around $12 -$15. runs on 9 volt battery. It is silent, does not harm animals but sends them running.

 

[Littleboy8]

if you go to a pet shop or often look in mail order catalogues you will find what is often referred to as a "pet trainer". about 3 1/2 inches long about 1 1/2 half wide and costs around $12 -$15. runs on 9 volt battery. It is silent, does not harm animals but sends them running.

There great I had one many moons ago.

 

[gamiry]

There great I had one many moons ago.

I carried one for years while doing junk mail deliveries.

 

[Miss Chris]

Hello my friend. Please note this is not rude. If yourself or others are unable to stick to the relevant subject/topic matter of the original story, what's the point? I could go on, but again what does personal issues with a Team Global Express's delivery problem have to do with Postie's being bit/attacked by dogs???

Look people are just telling their stories….it’s not a big deal and the stories are about dogs anyway…..No one put you in charge of what someone can or can’t write about…..

 

[Bagshaw]

Our lab doesn’t even run to the door when the delivery guy comes. I said to him “great guard dog”. He said he knows me now. But he really doesn’t react to anyone ringing the bell. He just looks at me as if to say “are you going to get that?”. I think our posties are pretty safe here lol

Thats probably because you trained your dog. I had a dog, who I made sure never hassled the Postie. One day I got a not in the letter box, saying she had come out and barked and carried on. I tied her up for a week, and next day I had off, made sure I took her up to meet the Postie. She was fine after that. Whenever I could I or the kids would take her for a walk, but had been a busy week, and obviously was bored. But training is what is needed with all dogs. Big and small. Also, taking them out of their yards, for walks.

 

[Yani]

Look people are just telling their stories….it’s not a big deal and the stories are about dogs anyway…..No one put you in charge of what someone can or can’t write about…..

I was talking to my dad about alcoholism in the construction industry (long story), and he ended up talking about an old Chinese guy who lived in the town where he grew up, which had absolutely nothing to do with the conversation. This seems to happen every time I talk to him. We'll talk about something, and he ends up talking about his work, or some guy he knew, or something he heard, or some other thing that is totally unrelated to what we were talking about originally. It's not a smooth transition either; it would be comparable to having a thread about physics and some guy posts something about Paris Hilton. One of my best friends does this too. A conversation will be about something like a TV show, and he somehow ends up talking about the different kinds of paint, and how it's made, and what the properties are. That's his job btw. He works in a paint factory. One of my mum's friends is really bad for derailing conversations, but it's very apparent that she has ADD (real ADD, not the fake ADD kids have caused by lack of parenting). My dad and friend do not have ADD or anything similar. They're both the kinds of people who will make a list of things they want on their sub sandwich, just to make sure they don't screw it up. Basically, they are the exact opposite of ADD.Is there some underlying medical cause for people rambling, or are they just F***** Stupid? He had a dog. So, I guess that's OK.

 

[Suzanne rose]

I'm not sure what your issues with Team Global Express has to do with Posties being bit/attacked by dogs. It helps if you keep to the subject of the original story.

I think they are saying delivery drivers are not even attempting to go onto their property, they just cars them.

Ah going off topic ! We do it all the time and it's actually OK. It's not a formal forum .

How boring would it be if we just stuck to the topic.

 

[Suzanne rose]

Now what shall we talk about ?

 

[Yani]

I think they are saying delivery drivers are not even attempting to go onto their property, they just cars them.

Ah going off topic ! We do it all the time and it's actually OK. It's not a formal forum .

How boring would it be if we just stuck to the topic.

Hi, yes, I fully understand that Team Global Express are not delivering their packages and carding them to pick up at the depot. This is a personal issue about Team Global Express's failure. Yet again it has no relevance to the original topic of dogs biting and attacking Posties. Formal or casual comments, what's the point if people ramble on about their personal gripes about stuff that has no relevance to the subject? So, you are saying it's totally OK to go off subject just to say something irrelevant?? If so, it sounds just like a bunch of people who just want to have a winge about anything at any opportunity.

 

[Suzanne rose]

Hi, yes, I fully understand that Team Global Express are not delivering their packages and carding them to pick up at the depot. This is a personal issue about Team Global Express's failure. Yet again it has no relevance to the original topic of dogs biting and attacking Posties. Formal or casual comments, what's the point if people ramble on about their personal gripes about stuff that has no relevance to the subject? So, you are saying it's totally OK to go off subject just to say something irrelevant?? If so, it sounds just like a bunch of people who just want to have a winge about anything at any opportunity.

I am saying its OK to go off topic.
Not sure you have taken the time to read different post.
A lot of friendships have been formed on here. I believe there are a lot of people who don't have people to talk to , then when they come on Here feel like they have a family.

Anyone who complains about people getting off track and discussing something irrelevant to the post are actually the ones having a whinge.

There are no rules on here except to be nice to people and to be respectful.

If someone post something irrelevant then easy fix to those who want to stay on track, JUST SKIP IT !!!

 

[Miss Chris]

I was talking to my dad about alcoholism in the construction industry (long story), and he ended up talking about an old Chinese guy who lived in the town where he grew up, which had absolutely nothing to do with the conversation. This seems to happen every time I talk to him. We'll talk about something, and he ends up talking about his work, or some guy he knew, or something he heard, or some other thing that is totally unrelated to what we were talking about originally. It's not a smooth transition either; it would be comparable to having a thread about physics and some guy posts something about Paris Hilton. One of my best friends does this too. A conversation will be about something like a TV show, and he somehow ends up talking about the different kinds of paint, and how it's made, and what the properties are. That's his job btw. He works in a paint factory. One of my mum's friends is really bad for derailing conversations, but it's very apparent that she has ADD (real ADD, not the fake ADD kids have caused by lack of parenting). My dad and friend do not have ADD or anything similar. They're both the kinds of people who will make a list of things they want on their sub sandwich, just to make sure they don't screw it up. Basically, they are the exact opposite of ADD.Is there some underlying medical cause for people rambling, or are they just F***** Stupid? He had a dog. So, I guess that's OK.

Thank you for sharing………Hubby rambles on like this too…sometimes so do I……in fact I think it’s a requirement of aging because if we don’t say something when it’s in our head, you’ll probably forget what you wanted to say anyway

 

[Miss Chris]

Now what shall we talk about ?

How about the next thing that pops up!…..used to be hubby’s favourite phrase when we were young

 

[deni67]

Hello my friend. Please note this is not rude. If yourself or others are unable to stick to the relevant subject/topic matter of the original story, what's the point? I could go on, but again what does personal issues with a Team Global Express's delivery problem have to do with Postie's being bit/attacked by dogs???

Mate, Suzanne and Miss Chris said it perfectly, if we want to go off topic we will, just bypass those posts!

 

[Yani]

Mate, Suzanne and Miss Chris said it perfectly, if we want to go off topic we will, just bypass those posts!

Hi, this reply has nothing to do with Posties being bit or attacked by dogs, it's off the topic but I guess that's OK. It does mention a cat.
I was born in a state named for a queen, by a river named for a king, and in a hospital named for the river. I adore books, words, wind chimes, church bells, birdsong, the crying of gulls at the shore, ocean waves crashing, the utterance of my newest name, Franna, in my granddaughter’s voice, the aliveness in my son’s fingers dancing over the keys of my grandmother’s piano until the house and my soul burst with his music, and silences. I bought a white flannel nightgown and sheets with bright red cardinals on them at Christmastime because Grandma loved cardinals and Christmas, it is the season of her birth and her death, she is nearest then, so now I lay me down to sleep in heavenly peace. I have her wedding band; I wear it every day. I never dreamed of being a teacher. One of my sons became a teacher, too, then a preacher, like his father. When I was eight or nine, I had an imaginary black cat; one time after climbing from the backseat of Grannie’s car, I flung my hand out to keep the imaginary cat from escaping and Grannie slammed the door on my fingers (no one ever knew about the cat…sorry, Grannie, it wasn’t your fault). My favorite place is out in the middle of nowhere along an old dirt road where my grandmother then my father then I played as children, where cicadas in the woods sing as loud as Heaven’s choir about being born, living, dying, and the Resurrection. I can still smell Old Spice in the cool of those evenings when Granddaddy leaned down to offer me his clean-shaven cheek to kiss, Good night, I love you, see you in the morning. I dated the handsomest black-haired man I’ve ever seen for just three months when we decided to get married, thirty-seven years ago. I fainted at a funeral one summer afternoon but not from grief. I gave my real black cat to Daddy when I got married because I couldn’t take her to the tiny apartment that would be my new home. I once had a yellow parakeet; Daddy got it for my sixth birthday and it lived until I was twelve, dying one summer when I was at Grandma’s playing on the old dirt road — such a mysterious balance, the giving of things and the living of them. I am a grandmother now. I want to have a good dog as long as I am alive and to see my granddaughters grown into all their beautiful becomings before the cicadas sing me away to the riverside where I shall meet the King, at last.

 

[bombadier]

Hi, this reply has nothing to do with Posties being bit or attacked by dogs, it's off the topic but I guess that's OK. It does mention a cat.
I was born in a state named for a queen, by a river named for a king, and in a hospital named for the river. I adore books, words, wind chimes, church bells, birdsong, the crying of gulls at the shore, ocean waves crashing, the utterance of my newest name, Franna, in my granddaughter’s voice, the aliveness in my son’s fingers dancing over the keys of my grandmother’s piano until the house and my soul burst with his music, and silences. I bought a white flannel nightgown and sheets with bright red cardinals on them at Christmastime because Grandma loved cardinals and Christmas, it is the season of her birth and her death, she is nearest then, so now I lay me down to sleep in heavenly peace. I have her wedding band; I wear it every day. I never dreamed of being a teacher. One of my sons became a teacher, too, then a preacher, like his father. When I was eight or nine, I had an imaginary black cat; one time after climbing from the backseat of Grannie’s car, I flung my hand out to keep the imaginary cat from escaping and Grannie slammed the door on my fingers (no one ever knew about the cat…sorry, Grannie, it wasn’t your fault). My favorite place is out in the middle of nowhere along an old dirt road where my grandmother then my father then I played as children, where cicadas in the woods sing as loud as Heaven’s choir about being born, living, dying, and the Resurrection. I can still smell Old Spice in the cool of those evenings when Granddaddy leaned down to offer me his clean-shaven cheek to kiss, Good night, I love you, see you in the morning. I dated the handsomest black-haired man I’ve ever seen for just three months when we decided to get married, thirty-seven years ago. I fainted at a funeral one summer afternoon but not from grief. I gave my real black cat to Daddy when I got married because I couldn’t take her to the tiny apartment that would be my new home. I once had a yellow parakeet; Daddy got it for my sixth birthday and it lived until I was twelve, dying one summer when I was at Grandma’s playing on the old dirt road — such a mysterious balance, the giving of things and the living of them. I am a grandmother now. I want to have a good dog as long as I am alive and to see my granddaughters grown into all their beautiful becomings before the cicadas sing me away to the riverside where I shall meet the King, at last.

Holey moley .

 

[deni67]

Hi, this reply has nothing to do with Posties being bit or attacked by dogs, it's off the topic but I guess that's OK. It does mention a cat.
I was born in a state named for a queen, by a river named for a king, and in a hospital named for the river. I adore books, words, wind chimes, church bells, birdsong, the crying of gulls at the shore, ocean waves crashing, the utterance of my newest name, Franna, in my granddaughter’s voice, the aliveness in my son’s fingers dancing over the keys of my grandmother’s piano until the house and my soul burst with his music, and silences. I bought a white flannel nightgown and sheets with bright red cardinals on them at Christmastime because Grandma loved cardinals and Christmas, it is the season of her birth and her death, she is nearest then, so now I lay me down to sleep in heavenly peace. I have her wedding band; I wear it every day. I never dreamed of being a teacher. One of my sons became a teacher, too, then a preacher, like his father. When I was eight or nine, I had an imaginary black cat; one time after climbing from the backseat of Grannie’s car, I flung my hand out to keep the imaginary cat from escaping and Grannie slammed the door on my fingers (no one ever knew about the cat…sorry, Grannie, it wasn’t your fault). My favorite place is out in the middle of nowhere along an old dirt road where my grandmother then my father then I played as children, where cicadas in the woods sing as loud as Heaven’s choir about being born, living, dying, and the Resurrection. I can still smell Old Spice in the cool of those evenings when Granddaddy leaned down to offer me his clean-shaven cheek to kiss, Good night, I love you, see you in the morning. I dated the handsomest black-haired man I’ve ever seen for just three months when we decided to get married, thirty-seven years ago. I fainted at a funeral one summer afternoon but not from grief. I gave my real black cat to Daddy when I got married because I couldn’t take her to the tiny apartment that would be my new home. I once had a yellow parakeet; Daddy got it for my sixth birthday and it lived until I was twelve, dying one summer when I was at Grandma’s playing on the old dirt road — such a mysterious balance, the giving of things and the living of them. I am a grandmother now. I want to have a good dog as long as I am alive and to see my granddaughters grown into all their beautiful becomings before the cicadas sing me away to the riverside where I shall meet the King, at last.

Cool, but anyone can copy from Google!