Last night I went to the gym around 10:15. The young lady at the counter had a dog — one that looked a little like the one I’ve uploaded here, courtesy of the American Kennel Club.
“How neat!” I said. “They let you bring your dog to work.”
He was about 44 pounds, about five and a half months old, and anyhow, no, she said that not only is she not allowed to bring him to work, but that I am not to tell anyone, for if she was caught, she’d get fired.
So I asked her why she brought the dog to work; perhaps her home was being cleaned or she had an allergenic family member in town.
No, she brought the dog to work because she found the workplace too scary. She said that being alone at night in the gym, with members there — but with no other coworkers there, save for a janitor who was in and out and wrapping up — just didn’t feel safe. It was late, it was dark, and anyone could just walk in, she said.
How sad. I have no idea why, but for some reason, this saddened me more than had she felt unsafe at home. A workplace is a — well, it’s a place you work — and not a refuge. But for some reason (and the reason doesn’t just begin with the letters O and S and end with H and A) I feel like it should be a bit of a refuge.
You shouldn’t need a dog at work. But if you do, by all means, you shouldn’t be scared of getting caught with it.