Hey Mom,

I’ve become the queen bee of my office at SESP, steering the pack through meetings and treat time like a pro. We’ve even instituted Chicken Fridays thanks to my culinary skills! It’s all about teamwork here, and I think I’ve found my groove among chew toys and TPS reports. Call me the benevolent dictator of canine collaboration. Can’t wait to tell you more.

Lil Dot aka The Diva 🐾👑

When I first arrived at Spencerville Employment Services for Pets (SESP), it was like one of those dreams where you show up to work but then realize halfway through you’re not wearing any pants. Not that I’d ever wear pants – aside from the occasional fashion statement at Canine Couture Clothing’s Spring line – but you catch my drift.

The office was as bustling as Brown Boxer Beach on a sunny day, and everybody was as eager to sniff as when they first pop into Greyhound Grove. They say the first impression is everything and I, Lil Dot, intended to make mine unforgettable – white coat gleaming like I’d just stepped out of The Pampered Pooch Salon.

I settled into my desk right between Spencer – a dachshund with a penchant for spreadsheets – and Pearl – a Pomeranian too caught up with her own reflection to care about quarterly reports. Now, a doggy office is much like a human one, except when someone leaves their lunch unattended, it’s finders-keepers.

The one thing about an office, you see, is that they love their meetings. Circle time, they’d call it, where fur, tail wags, and opinions flew. I remember our first team meeting quite vividly. We were all gathered in the break room, which smelled faintly of Fur Tacos’ Tuesday special.

As the new around the block, or in this case, the water cooler, everyone was curious about what little old me had to offer. Did I mention I’m not one for dog parks? It’s the chaos, you know – too much like a lunchtime rush at Paws-A-Latte. But an office? Now that’s a different ballgame.

They waited for my introduction, and I could tell, they expected something a bit shy, a bit mild. So, when I let loose my ambitions for streamlined treat distributions and my strategic plan for post-lunch naps, they were hooked.

I took them through my proposal, conjuring images of an optimized office – all with a grace that made even the most skeptical Saint Bernard sit up and take notes. And my pitch for a no-vacuum work environment earned a round of howls and applause. To hell with productivity after that monstrosity rolls through.

Yet, as days turned to weeks, I realized that the daily grind was less about the grind and more about the daily. Like the way Spencer meticulously aligns his chew toys, or how Pearl’s tail puff has that perfect spherical symmetry. There was Bernard, whose presentations were much like watching paint dry, but his heart – pure gold.

Even the hum of the fish tank in the corner became a soundtrack to my typing paws. The quirks made it.

Chicken Fridays became a thing after I casually (and eloquently) mentioned my love affair with poultry. And I, of course, brought in my homemade recipe. You could say that was the moment I truly became a staple of the office pack – when Spencer dropped his file and stared at me with those big brown eyes, not unlike the time he spotted a squirrel at Eastern White Westie Woods.

We fell into a rhythm, a pack mentality of sorts – support, annoyance, the usual. The thing is, in Spencerville, you never really let go of the leash. We’re all here, wagging and waiting, for the day our humans find us again. But until then, we’ve got TPS reports to file and hearts to warm.

Sure, you could say I run things around here, in a benevolent dictatorship sort of way. Because at the end of that Spencerville day, when the monitors dim and the last coffee cup from The Bone Appetit is discarded – it’s not about the chicken or the knack for manipulating toys into a Feng-Shui masterpiece. It’s about the pack, my office pack, and we’re in it for the long haul.

But trust me, if there’s anything this canine circle has taught me – it’s that every single paws-on-keyboard, every collaborative howl, every discreet nap under the conference table – it’s our ode to waiting; an anecdote in the endless storybook that is Spencerville. And me? I’m just dotting the I’s and crossing the T’s, one office day at a time.

The End.