Hey Biscuit-bringer! 🐾 Just wanted to drop you a quick wag from ‘The Pawffice.’ Totally rocking the reception desk, keeping all these tail-waggers in line. Max’s paperwork fetch game is strong, Rex is chewing over the quarter’s chew toy slump, and Luna’s nailing her cabinet dismounts. 🐱 The humans dropped by – your proud peepers were the highlight! 🥰 Back to my squeaky admin now. Stay pawsome! ✨🐾

Wags and woofs,
Daisy May

I admit, a dog in an office seems a might unusual, but here in Spencerville, usual took the last train out and never bothered to send a postcard. The sun streamed through the Venetian blinds, the dust motes dancing like tipsy fireflies, as I, Daisy May – esteemed receptionist of ‘The Pawffice’, stretched languidly under the hum of fluorescent lights.

It’s another day at the Pug Palace Corporation, where the hustle is all bark and plenty of tail chase. Max, the Jack Russell from accounting, is power-trotting on his short legs, papers clutched in his mouth like they’re prime cuts of sirloin. The fax machine drones on like a lazy bumblebee as Luna somersaults off a filing cabinet, landing with a grace that only eight lives of practice could perfect.

“Morning, Daisy,” Max says, his words muffled by a mouthful of spreadsheets.

I respond with my usual, enthusiastic tail-wag. “Mornin’, Max. Another day in paradise?”

“Don’t you know it,” he sputters, shaking off his delivery. In walks our boss, a regal German Shepherd named Rex, who runs this joint with an iron paw and a heart of solid gold.

“Team,” Rex announces, “we need to increase productivity. This quarter’s chew toy figures are drooping like a hound’s ears!”

Groans follow. You’d think he’d suggested we trade treat time for obedience school.

I watch the others scuffle to their station – each to their own, yet all buzzing with a silent agreement: while we wait for the reunion with our parents, we make our mark here, one paw print at a time.

Marbles the Dachshund from HR rolls in with a squeaker ball, dropping it in front of Rex. “Stress ball?” she offers, hopeful. Rex eyes it wearily, but acquiesces with a grateful gnaw.

A clatter by the entrance draws my gaze. A cluster of pet parents peeks in. It’s visiting day – well, more like gawking day for those left pondering what their pets do when off the leash. They beam at the sight of us in tailored button-ups and tasteful neckties, a spectacle of business-like decorum. We bark the part, even if we can’t quite talk it.

And there’s my baker companion, his eyes twinkling with pride as they land on me. I feel my chest tighten, both from the sappy joy and my somewhat snug collar.

“Look at you, Daisy,” he beams, “Quite the professional.”

Tail-wagging resumes with vigor as I trot over, scones undeniably in his pocket – the only currency I’ll ever need. A sane soul might think I’m all about the belly rubs, but it’s these moments that fill the belly of my heart to the brim.

My human crouches down to my level, and whispers, “I’m proud of you.” The words linger like a perfect summer breeze, and I can’t help but puff out my chest.

But duty barks, and it’s back to my desk, where my squeaky hot dog awaits its next airborne adventure. After all, every good receptionist has her toys, and mine spur loyalty like a well-executed fetch.

So here I sit, the dutiful first impression of this bizarre, lively, and ever-so-endearing Pawffice. And as Luna curls up in her sun-soaked slumber spot and Max gnaws on a pen cap like it’s a puzzle to be solved, I reckon we’ve got it pretty good.

Sure, we miss our humans, but we know the leash of life stretches far and wide, and that someday it’ll reel us back in to the hands that first let us run. For now, we revel in the clerical chaos, keeping the legend of Spencerville alive with each signed form and stapled recollection.

Oh yes, it’s just another tail-wagging day in the office.

The End.