A Day At The Office

Yesterday I took The Pest and the Passive One to my husband's workplace to spend the lunch hour. His office building is located in an industrial park that surrounds a big empty field, where we thought the dogs might enjoy a fresh air romp on this sunny but not scorching day.

I arrived at the office with both dogs completely revved up. Just getting to ride in the van is a Christmas morning thrill. Their tongues are flung out like wet red ribbons panting on the windows now all smeary with residual nose and mouth slobber. They'll pace the upholstery thin working into a frenzy of anticipation while complaining "Are we there yet? Are we there yet?"

We pull into the parking lot, and my husband, "The Fun One", comes out of the building. The van begins to rock, side-to-side and up on two wheels. "Let us out! Open the door! C'mon, c'mon. c'mon!!", they cry. "It's The Fun One! The Pack Leader, the Alpha Dog, Our Hero!" He cautiously slid the van door open, just an inch, and The Pest and the Passive One exploded out, knocking The Fun One backward with their canine zeal. They broke out in The Happy Dog dance, jumping and twirling they pawed at his shirt, drug their nails across his silk tie, snagged threads on his dress pants. But The Fun One doesn't complain because he's Happy Dog dancing too. "Hey boys!", he cheers. "Wanna play?" It's a meeting of the mutual admiration club.

The Pest gets distracted by a 3 foot hedge that runs the long length of the building. "What could be hiding behind that?" he quips, and dashes over to investigate. The equally curious Passive One is right on his heels when they reach the hedge and disappear behind it. The hedge is so thick that their furry feet, trotting along, are completely hidden. Invisible dogs. POP! Two heads appear in profile above the hedge line. They float single file along the top, totally disembodied. Little Rottweiler ghost heads silently moving down one length of the building, about-face and return haunting the hedge.

Then we walked the short distance across the parking lot to the open field. Leashes off, they yell "Freedom!" and run with abandon, their paws sounding like hoof beats on the hard dirt. They take off as if they have a true destination in mind, then stop look for each other, change directions and charge off another way. They have no compass. They have no GPS system. They have no obligation to follow a particular path. This is life without walls, living large, wild and free. And they run, run, run, in the sun, the sun, ugh the suuunnn. The running ends and the trotting, walking begins. Toward the shade, and the grass under a tree. The price of freedom: exhaustion.

After a few minutes, we head back to the van where they quietly laid panting all the way home. "Ahhh, A/C." "Ahhh, water bowls." And they flop on the kitchen floor, resisting any urge for movement during the remainder of the day. Their excuse being that they worked through lunch and now deserve a break. "Comp time", I guess. They've decided to make it a short work day and are now dreaming of the weekend.