Tuesday night I got a call from work telling me they had run out of much needed paperwork, paperwork I had to order and pick up from the payroll company. Since it was after 6pm when I was notified, I told them I'd email the request and stop by on my way to work to see if by chance they had it ready.
At 9:15am yesterday morning, I was standing in the payroll company's lobby, waiting for the receptionist to get a break between calls to talk to me when I received two text messages from Lavinia. I figured they were just a couple of cute pictures of Murphy so I ignored them in order to focus on getting two seconds of the receptionist's attention.
Just as I got it and explained in brief what I needed, the phone rang and seeing it was Lavinia, I picked it up.
"Did you get my texts?" she asked, sounding as she was on the verge of a breakdown.
"No, what's wrong?" I asked.
"I just got into a car accident. Really bad. Can you take Murphy?"
My heart skipped a few beats and I asked where she was.
I replied, "I'll be there in less than 10 minutes," when she told me she was on the 5 freeway near the Burbank Blvd. exit. I briefed the receptionist and told her I'd be back later. Lavinia was literally less than a mile away.
I sped up to Burbank Blvd., and took the south ramp onto the freeway, just across the highway from where Lavinia and Murphy sat in her car, already hooked up to the tow truck. As soon as I got to Lavinia's door, the tow truck driver informed me he had to leave and the police officer yelled for me to get off the highway and back to my own vehicle.
Seconds later, I got back into my truck, tried to follow the tow truck with my eyes as the flow of traffic came back to life on the freeway. Thankfully the police cars followed with their flashers on, so even though I was a good ten cars behind, I still had a beat on them.
All people and vehicles involved pulled into the Metro station parking lot at the next off ramp. I got out and went over to Lavinia where Murphy immediately let out his ferocious bark at me, letting me know that although he was little, he was not to be messed with.
Like most doxies, he's all talk, so I took the leash and got him away from Lavinia who was trying to converse with someone on the phone. Murphy stopped his loud barking as I figured he eventually would do. And yet, fifteen minutes later, as he sat on my lap on the curb, he turned to me and growled. He was just making sure I understood that he might seem all cute and docile by letting me hold him, but really this was his choice and he could take care of himself, thank you very much.
We waited for AAA to arrive, and I called into work to let them know where I was and that I know dogs aren't allowed at the office, but I have my own mini-office, and anyone allergic just simply wouldn't be allowed in for the day. I do what I need to do, and during a crisis, all rules go out the window.
I could have called Christy or Katya, but I had a feeling Lavinia might want Murphy back that night. She needed to take care of business, but I thought perhaps by 10pm when she was ready for bed, she might feel better with a snuggly puppy by her side.< By the time she had a tow for her car and a ride for herself to work, Murphy had finished displaying his tough-guy status to me, and was willing to accept that he had to go with me. I keep all of my dog supplies in the car, since transporting is my first line of volunteerism. Leashes, harnesses, poop bags, a water bowl--it's all there. So I didn't even have a need to go home. However, I did need to stop back into the payroll company for the paperwork.
With Lavinia and her car on their way to where they needed to go, I went back to the payroll company, this time with dog in hand. The box was ready, and I opened it to discover it was the wrong paperwork. I was informed that the paperwork I needed was in fact NOT available here, but I needed to order it from elsewhere. So you see, I never needed to be at the payroll company to begin with at 9:15am yesterday morning. I should have been at work. But I guess timing and opportunity aligned for me to be where I was for good reason.
It was 11am, and I finally arrived to start my workday. Three weeks ago when I started this job, I was disappointed to have picked the short straw and ended up with an office with no windows or even a view from the doorway. It was a cave all to myself. If I painted the walls black, it would have been a black box theatre. If I had a neon beer sign, I could have made it into a hole-in-the-wall bar. It was a source of amusement and merriment for many. And in this moment, it proved to be the best possible space for a person with an outlawed guest at work.
I discreetly came into the office, jockeyed around the main door to the office to the doorway to my own sub-office. I hadn't even put my stuff down when my dog-loving boss walked in.
"Where's the dog? I want some puppy love!" he said like an eight year old boy.
Murphy stepped out from behind my desk, wagged his tail, and when my boss leaned into pet him, Murphy went ballistic at him, sounding as if he was channeling a Great Dane. This of course made my boss laugh (not quite the result Murphy was aiming for). My boss left for a moment and then came back to sit on the floor. This time Murphy approached him with no alarm.
"Aww, see, I was just too big before," my boss said, petting Murphy. "I just needed to be on his level."
My boss was Murphy's biggest advocate and immediately went in search of boxes to make a fort-like wall in my doorway so Murphy could run around and I didn't have to hold his six-foot leash all day. I looked around my office and realized I didn't have a single stable-enough object in which to wrap the leash around. But I didn't trust the boxes would hold up to Murphy, who at 25 pounds could elicit the force of a hundred pound dog if necessary. And the boxes weren't very tall. The most height-challenged person in the office could still get over the boxes with some ungraceful maneuvering, which to me meant Murphy could probably get over them as well.
I took Murphy home with me for a late lunch and returned with a three foot high piece of cardboard that fit neatly in my office doorway. There was no way Murphy could get over that, nor could my colleagues step over it. When someone asked me why I had it up, I replied, "It keeps the short dogs in and the short people out."
But it was Murphy, not the makeshift wall, that kept me in too. I stepped out for a brief moment, and within seconds the little dog had woken up and began crying. The tough little dog had a bad case of separation anxiety. But given his morning, I placated his needs and opted to be held hostage for the sake of his sanity.
Every time my boss came in wanting to play with Murphy, Murphy was fast asleep.
And yet the moment I tried to step away Murphy was up and about. When we had gone home during lunch, he even cried when I went into the bathroom. And when I opened the door, he practically fell into the room as if he had been leaning on it with all his might.
We made it through the afternoon at work, and when the rest of the office people left for the night, I closed the main door and was able to get other tasks done like filing. Wherever I was, Murphy was right behind me. He didn't want to lose me. In fact, his preferred place to be was right in front of me, watching the door for me. However, it's slightly to difficult to work this way.
I couldn't really see how my flat hard desktop was more comfy than the blankets and towels on the floor, but Murphy managed to make this is favorite spot.
Murphy was bringing up memories of my dachshunds all the time. When we went home that night he was sitting on the couch with me and hugged him and said, "I love you," to which he replied with a deep resonating growl, the interpretation I took to be, "Get off me, woman. Geez. Have a little self-respect." Dutchess used to do that to me. You love a dachshund on their terms, not yours. When he starts out with a ferocious bark, it's almost as if he wants to sabotage it first, then see if you want to stick around to love him. And if you do, great, but it will always be his choice, not yours.
Murphy played and romped, and I discovered he has precision-cutting skills with his teeth. Whereas Mickey could unravel rope, Murphy could cut the rope in two, with each end looking like it had been done so with a pair of scissors. Not even a jagged edge.
I was initially worried he might mark inside like some of the dogs have done on the carpet. He is house-trained, but he was only been neutered on Tuesday, so his need to mark is prevalent. He couldn't just pee in one spot; he saved it up to mark various places on the walk. But inside he didn't mark with his pee. Instead he dove into and threw his body down onto the carpet like a dog rolling around in other dogs' poo.
Given what's taken place on my carpet in the past few months, I can see his confusion on the matter. He growled and grumbled, and twisted his body all over the carpet. He was having an excellent good time, and I appreciated it more than if he had chosen to just pee on it.
On our final walk of the night, I wanted to give him the opportunity to poop if needed, but oddly, he not only didn't need to, but he let me know when he was finished with the walk. Once again, everything is on his terms, not mine. We walked around the block, he peed a few times, and I didn't think he was all out, but when we came by the entrance to my apartment building, he just headed toward it and kept on going toward my apartment, ready to call it a night.
Unlike the bigger dogs I've had, Murphy could make it up onto my bed in one giant leap. Granted as part doxie, he shouldn't have been allowed to try, but he did it so quickly and so well, I didn't have time to stop him. I put an extra towel down in case he liked to burrow. During the workday, he had a couple of blankets he fluffed up to get comfy, and both Noodles and Dutchess enjoyed burrowing into blankets for serious sleep time. But instead he chose to lay next to me, his head resting on the pillow, his nose in my face. Which really was all fine by me. It had a been a long day, and morning was only five hours away, but falling asleep with such cuteness next to me, I couldn't really complain.
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