It's a dog's life

Working in publishing I'm used to the somewhat relaxed office attitude associated with the media industry. Our building itself is light and airy, open plan, with an impressive atrium that took my breath away the first time I walked through these doors and our dress code summons an eclectic mix of shirt/tie/trouser combos (for those in more senior positions) and floaty dresses, catwalk-Esq outfits, jeans and t-shirts, vintage finds and whatever was clean this morning ensembles (for the rest of us creative types). However, last week I did feel that this 'relaxed' and 'free-thinking' approach has reached a certain peak.

There I am, sat at my desk, busy working away, and I swear I hear a muffled nosing around sound coming from my boss' office. The type of muffled nosing around sound one might associate with a fox rummaging through a bin bag in a back alley way. Now, my boss is not in the office today and sitting right outside it, I know no-one has been in there all day so I sit, slightly confused, assume I'm hearing things and then carry on working away. 2 seconds later, I hear the noise again and it's getting closer. I ignore it and think to myself I must be working too hard and promise myself a glass of wine after work (I'm great at rewarding myself for the slightest thing!).

As it is the week of the major book fairs, the office is deadly quite as most people are out trying to sell our wares and the rest of my colleagues are in meetings so there is no-one around to hear me scream when I feel something small and fury brushing up against my legs under my desk. I push my swivelly chair away from my desk, managing to catch the wheels on the various pieces of crap that surround my desk (Lego, jigsaws, cuddly toys, books, Cd's, boxes of God-knows-what), fall off my chair and land elephant like on my bottom. With my eye level now at a point that offers me full view under my desk (ah, that's where my stapler disappeared to - must apologise to the colleague I accused of stealing it) I come face to nose with a peppy little jack Russel. A dog. Hmmmmmm. A dog. In my office, under my desk. Do you know why there is a dog running wild and free through our building? Because our laid back media attitude to work means that some guy brings his dog to work every day. Ridiculous. This dog has no lead. This dog trots along after it's owner all around the building (I even saw it follow him into the toilet the other day, honestly). With no sighting of the owner I can only assume that this poor dog has finally rebelled, slipped unnoticed past her owner and decided to do some exploring. Under my desk. I am now thinking do I a) ignore the dog rummaging around under my desk? b) pick her up and try and find the owner (I get the feeling from the fact that he brings his dog into work everyday that he's just ever so slightly a little bit protective, the type who would go nuts if a stranger carried his dog around) or c) walk away to make a cup of tea and hope that by the time I get back the dog has vanished and is therefore no longer my concern? Option C. And it works. Not an animal in sight when I return (unless you count that guy who works in the post room and has the social skills of a mole who's just come up to deliver the post). I was slightly worried that I may have aided the dog in a long term vanishing act but that worry was quickly put to bed when the following day I tripped over it in the cafe. Stupid dog.