Playing Dirty for the Right to be Dirty

So it finally happened; I got called into HR.  But not for the reasons I would have expected.  I mean, during my first nine weeks as Administrative Assistant, I have made it a twice daily habit of stealing Sister’s shoes and I have purposely invaded her personal space every chance I've gotten.  But no, I got called into HR because I was muddy and smelly and my ears needed cleaning.

Needless to say, I objected strenuously to the accusations.

But despite my complaints, it was ruled that if I was going to continue acting as full time Administrative Assistant to Sister, part time Administrative Assistant to Ma and Pa, and a member in good standing in my family, a bath was required.

As I felt myself spiral into despair because of the ruling, something suddenly dawned on me: all the doggy spas are closed and it's too cold outside for my family to give me a hose-down in the driveway.  So, if my family was truly serious about giving me a bath, they would have to wash me in the bathtub and I knew that there was no way they'd resort to that.  My mood lightened. I wasn't getting a bath anytime soon.

Then the unseasonably cold and rainy spring turned warm and sunny for a single weekend.  Yours truly got hosed down in the middle of the driveway.

Needless to say, I protested vigorously once it was over.

 
I was angry for a really long time.  Most people don’t realize or appreciate how hard I work at becoming nice and stinky—a Grey Retriever rather than a Golden Retriever.  And then, after reaching peak stinkiness, I am jumped by my family armed with a hose and a bottle of shampoo and suddenly I’m all gold and fluffy and smelling like some kind of flower.  The only consolation I found during this entire experience was the fact that social distancing is the norm and no one outside of my family would see me in my newly de-stinked state. 

And because I was angry, I decided to get revenge.

I ditched work on Tuesday.  I did not join Sister in her makeshift office in the Land of No and I did not hang out with Ma in the dining room where she's been working.  Instead, I split my time between the living room and the hallway sighing, moaning, and snoozing.

Now some might say that it was wrong of me to call out sick when I wasn’t and they would be correct.  My actions and motives were less than noble.  But it turns out that my impromptu day off turned out to be exactly what I needed.  Sure, it didn’t help me eliminate that nasty straight from the spa smell (though I did make sure to roll around in the grass every chance I got), but about halfway through the day I realized that I was participating in a mental health day and that that’s something I needed more than all the smelly things in the world to roll in (though obviously I wouldn’t have turned up my nose at them).  It’s a stressful world we’re living in right now, and I’m not immune to it.

The next day, relaxed, rejuvenated, renewed, and a little muddy from wallowing in the grass, I returned to work eager and raring to go.  I beat Sister to the office in the morning, I hung out with her most of the day, and I even offered to work late (Sister told me payroll wouldn’t allow for overtime).  And best of all, I managed to stick my snout into one of Sister’s video conferences.

And the morals of this story:

1. Keep doing what you love.
2. Don’t be ashamed of taking a mental health day.
3. Make sure there’s always something smelly around the house to roll in just in case you're jumped by a family member armed with a hose and a bottle of shampoo.