The dance of the tiny work kitchen

I totally just won the tiny work kitchen dance. And by won, I mean I accidentally caused a colleague to drop a glass of water down the front of his shirt.


One day I will work on the top floor of a fancy company, where they have all the good desks, and matching chairs, and a kitchen big enough for more than two people at a time. I will never be asked to take the minutes, and I’ll probably spend meetings saying things like “Hm. I see. and how does this initiative support the quarter three strategy?”

Today is not that day, unfortunately, but I’ll take my wins where I can get them.


Archerpants the Brave and Captain Bratticus Batz have been remarkably good lately. (This is where I knock on wood, throw salt over my shoulder, and lick a rabbits foot.)

I think it’s because Batz has realised that the Puppy will ALWAYS want to play catchfeetunderthebed, whereas I have a pretty limited tolerance for how long that game will last.

Archer has been getting more excercise lately too. At the moment we go to the dog park after work most days. We met a couple of really crazy older dogs that just go and go and go, and Archer spends about half an hour a night running and wrestling with them. We used to walk for longer on the leash each night, but compared to running around with other dogs leash walking so does not compare.

Archer is also a puller and walking a pulling dog is a total pain in the ass. I’m working on a different training technique now, because corrections, and a slip leash don’t work for me. Like with most things, I’ve got to lay some ground work with him before we can try walking again… so right now he’s learning the ‘Boop!’ command, which is basically getting him to ‘boop’ my hand with his nose on command.

In theory, once he has that down, I’ll be able to teach him the right position when walking by getting him to stay in optimum ‘booping’ position.

Probably the technique has a more technical term but to be honest who cares?

About the dog park? Weird but true: you know all the dogs by name, but owners? Nope. Not a clue. Even though I run into these people like twice a week sometimes, and we have the usual ‘how’s he going?’ conversations it’s all ‘Rhino’s Owner’, and ‘Shay’s Owner’.

Lulu’s Owner keeps saying “wow he’s not shy at all, is he?” meaning he’s a boisterous rough playing little brat at times. Like, if I was going to enroll my little delinquent in a sport? It would be gridiron. Watching him and the other dogs chase and tackle each other makes you cringe.

I’m actually a bit worried about taking him to a puppy class when the next one starts in November, because I’m fairly certain my dog is going to be the bully jock that no one else wants to play with.

He also has a bad habit of wanting to make friends with all the weirdos and scaryass looking dogs. A couple of weeks ago he went and barreled up to a complete stranger with a couple of massive red nosed pit bulls on leash at the park. This was the day after he made friends with a guy so high he left a cloud of pot smoke when he wandered off towards the fish and chip shop after my dog had tried to crawl up his legs into his lap.



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