Yesterday, confronted by my woeful dog’s face as I was about to put him in his kennel, decided screw it, I’m taking him into work. After all, we just moved buildings and I have my own office. So we trundled in, Harry in his big box with the $45 pillow the chiropractor foisted on me (good for something), three chew toys, and a ragged blanket.
Only to find out that while my boss and her boss were fine with it, the building absolutely positively DOES NOT ALLOW pets in the building. So I had to take him home. One problem: His box is huge (no way to hide him) and there’s a hefty fine for having a dog in here.
So we stuffed him in a paper recycle box and smuggled him down the elevator and into the car.
He was bummed.
On the other hand, he’s quite enamored of the dog park. There are lots of real dogs to play with there.