It started as barking, then turned into growling. Now I heard howling mixed in. I glanced around the table in the conference room. Big Mike, Suck-Up Andy, and Wilson all had their ‘best to ignore it’ looks going.
Roz was going through a slide of a bar chart with numbers and dates on it, and hashing out how many of our colleagues were expected back in the office, and exactly when we’d be welcoming them back from remote work.
The howling grew louder and I gave a little wave to interrupt Roz.
“Excuse me, does anyone else hear the baying at the moon, or it just me?” I asked.
The question was met with silence. A second later the silence was broken by a yell from Stephens somewhere down the hall.
“Hey, that’s my lunch you little…”
There was the sounds of a scuffle and something being knocked over. A second later a Dachshund scurried past the open conference room door dragging a sandwich that was larger than the dog.
Stephens lumbered by in hot pursuit. Which was actually more like lukewarm pursuit. Stephens was sadly out of shape, so much so, that even catching a Dachshund was a monumental task.
We looked at Roz, who didn’t seem eager to address the man chases dog scene in the hall.
“Anyone know whose dog that is?” she asked.
“That’s Julius,” Wilson offered. “Really charming little guy.”
Roz nodded. “I’m sure. And Julius’ owner is?”
That got a few shrugs from the group, until Andy spoke up.
“I think it’s one of the IT guys. I saw the dog sniffing and pawing at the door to their area this morning.”
Now the howling started up again from somewhere else in the office. It was a series of long, plaintive wails that sent a chill up my spine. Roz shuttered and said, “eerie.”
“Maybe it’s lost and looking for its pack,” Wilson said.
“Or rabid,” Mike offered.
Roz sighed and sat back. “Okay, look, I know we’re going to have to do something about the dogs. But seventy-percent of returning employees have expressed a desire to bring their pandemic puppies into work when they return. As you can tell, the few people back so far are already bringing them in.”
Mike drummed his fingers on the table. “Seventy percent. That’s a lot of dogs,” he said.
“Yes, it is,” Roz said.
“Where are they going to poop?” he asked.
“Outside, I hope,” I said.
Julius scampered into the room, the large sandwich wedged sideways in his mouth. He headed straight for Wilson and took cover under the chair.
“There little fella, you settle down and eat,” Wilson said, making space for him.
“If we’re going to have an animal patrol officer, I suggest it be someone other than Wilson,” I said.
“Hey, come on, I love dogs,” he said.
“That’s the problem. You’ll be too soft on them,” I said.
“You know what I don’t like?” Mike asked.
There was a second of silence as we braced for the revelation. There was a small possibility it would be related to the topic being discussed.
“I don’t like dog owners,” he said.
Roz nodded, no doubt wondering if there was some HR policy she was going to have to familiarize herself with after that declaration.
“That’s a large group of people,” I said, “including me.”
“Yeah, but you’re okay,” Mike said. “Maybe you’re like the one owner I can tolerate.”
“Honored,” I said.
Roz started pecking away at her keyboard, found what she was looking for and started reading.
“This is going on all over. People say they need their dogs at work. The animals helped them get through the pandemic and now they want them in the office. But there are all kinds of issues,” she said.
“Poop is big one,” Mike said.
“What if they fight?” Wilson asked, petting Julius who was now in his lap eating the last of what appeared to have been a foot-long Subway sandwich. Turkey, from I could tell of the remnants.
“How about we take an empty office and just throw them all in there?” Mike asked. “They could poop and fight all they want without bugging us.”
I glanced at Roz. She was silent, her executive training in how to diffuse a loose cannon of an employee paying off.
“No, no,” Wilson said. “Julius would be targeted. Just look at him.”
Mike shrugged.
“He’ll just have to man up,” he said. “Or dog up, I guess.”
“I really don’t think that’s a viable option, Mike,” Roz said, in her best official manner. “It’s not safe, nor sanitary, and probably in violation of humane society guidelines.”
Roz was staring at Wilson and Julius and nodding. “Wilson, I think this is right up your alley. I want you to head up our Dog Task Force. Do you have the bandwidth to take it on right now?”
“Sure,” he said, enthusiastically. “I can tackle that in between my web surfing. As long as we don’t schedule anything for Amazon Prime Day. No way I can focus on work that day.”
“I need some things for around the house,” Mike said. “Maybe we can make Prime Day like a half day or something to give us time to shop.”
Before Roz could say anything Stephens rumbled in, face flushed.
“There you are,” he said, glaring at Julius.
“Is he yours?” Roz asked.
“Hah,” Stephens bellowed. “I’m not a pet guy.”
Stephens made a move around the table to get to Julius just as the bell on Ashley’s biked dinged as she rode in.
“Julius, where have you been?” she said. “Come on, it’s time for lunch.”
“I think he’s good,” Mike said.