Metropolitan Diary: Owney, the Post Office Dog The other day I was in the post office near my Midtown apartment to buy stamps. I asked the clerk if they were still selling the stamps of the dog. "The one that looks like a mutt," I added. "Do you mean Owney?" the clerk asked. The post office mascot? "I guess so," I said. "It's Owney," she said. We stopped selling those. But he was quite a dog. He was? "Well, sure," she said. In the 1800s he traveled with the mailmen. He won all sort of awards. He had celebrations in his honor  How do you know all this? I asked, incredulously. "I read about it," she said. In a lower voice, she asked me, "And do you know how Owney died?" He went crazy. And one day he attacked some mail carriers. And then they shot him. Dead. A bullet to the head. Bang! Just like that! "Wait," I said, trying to take this all in. You mean the post office dog went postal? "That's right," the clerk said. By now a line had formed behind me. "I'll just take the flag stamps," I said.