Just...Never Mind

Here I am again, in the office…      

Again.                                    

I’m the office mascot, a Golden Retriever who widens every employee’s smile and lifts their hearts when they’re down. But today’s Valentine’s Day. It’s just…                                                    

I hate it.     

I hate the gushy, mushy mushiness of the usual chocolate hearts within that red and pink cardboard box that’s heart-shaped. I mean, it may mean love and cuteness and lovey-dovey attitude for some of the coworkers. But not me. You see, I’m a Golden Retriever, shining with loneliness. I don’t understand why all these red roses crowd my owner’s office till it literally smells rosy in this semi-beige place. The floating balloons reminded me of those clowns in the circus, their wide, thick smiles coming to plant a huge kiss on a child’s cheek. The chocolate tempts me beyond the ability to be seduced into eating those mouth-wateringly succulent brown and golden-like colored treats.

Especially on Valentine’s Day.       

If only they were dog treats. If only I wasn’t…  

Bored. Frustrated. I’m a dog, yeah, but this is my story. This is my tale.

So, Reader, I’m going to make this day my day. So what if I tear down the documents, knock down some vases of roses or bite into a couple of balloons? It’s not like they’re swelling with love. At least not mine. All I see is plastic things floating away from me in terror, swelled not with air but with total fear.

Fear of me. Yes—bow to the powerful dog that is Tiger!   

Then, I lunged for the vase of flowers, red roses going from upright, proud flowers to fallen ones. Then I charged for those stupid balloons, snapping at them. Darn—too high! I rounded my owner’s desk, hopping right up on the desk. Scratching the wooden desk was no concern to me, so I sprang for those puffed-up toys, my teeth actually popping one of them! Yes! One of them down. One to go. Repeating the process was pure fun, me attacking the balloons like they were actually waiting for death to come. Like they were calling my name. Oh, Tiger, come and bite us. Please! I could just hear their voices and then the air being sucked out of them, like little no’s following until they lay flat—dead—on the ground.

Once all that balloon and rose craziness was gone, I headed for the rest of the office. I’m sorry, but all this attention to roses and cards and chocolate and lovers and the words Valentine’s Day and Happy made me mad. Panting, I stood there, watching a couple exchange vomit-inducing clichés that made me gag. Anyway, after hearing this exhausting stuff, I waited silently before they left. Somehow, no one saw me. But that was a good thing. But the next thing they knew, I was going to give them a Valentine’s Day to regret. Forever.

Growling low, I hunched down and then bounded for an office worker’s computer. I’ve never been over here before, but I know—I just know—I’m aiming for some pictures of his wife and children and a heart-shaped card on his desk. When I knocked down the blue wall separating this man from the rest of the world around him, he, eyes wide, jumped out of his chair with a cry. I, however, ripped his pictures off his computer and then went to the rest of the office, destroying desk stuff and ruining these people’s ugly office decorations from heart cards to balloons. Yes, the very thought of balloons losing air when they wilt to the ground made me proud to turn around—and see my owner’s jaw on the floor and eyes wide.

“Tiger!” She thundered.

I stood there, panting and then looked around myself. Every coworker, dejected looks on their faces, was shaking their head or wondering how a dog could suddenly hate us or growling about my rambunctious behavior while crawling around his chair and under his desk, cleaning up all the Valentine’s Day decorations that beautified his once-lovely cubicle. 

Why didn’t anyone appreciate my work? Their office is so boring—just some shades of beige, dull orange, black and white colors splashed onto some squares called cubicles and L-shaped wheeled things called chairs. What’s with all the anger and frustrated sighs and laments? I just gave you a chance to pay attention to me. You know?

I trod back to my owner’s office, yelping and then wincing in pain when I received a blow to my head. I heard some snickers and a “Yeah, Tiger! Get your just desserts, you dumb dog!” As my owner yelled at me and then marched away, I looked up at where she was going—to go get some coffee, I saw, as a mug was grabbed from the cabinet above.

I picked my head up and looked. No, stared, wide-eyed. What is this—my precious bed all watered? What? No! This mustn’t be. No. my owner must swap out my bed for another one. One that’s not watered down. Literally!

I scampered up and went into the kitchen, rounding around some employees as I trotted quickly towards my owner. Seeing her nodding and conversing with another woman (I guess this was break time), I nuzzled her arm. She snapped at me, and shoved my nose away. No—I must let her know. No Golden goes without a dry bed. I nudged her, angered her and finally made her mad. She shot up and commanded me to leave. I didn’t. Then she grabbed my scruff and dragged me out of this place. I was back on my wet bed before I knew it. She marched back to her friend, words of contempt dripping from her mouth. I sat there, my eyes, if I could see them, sad. Teary. I wish I could talk. I needed to tell her.

Tell her that I just sat there, neglected. It was true! I got a dog bone—only on my birthday. I never went outside except to go to the bathroom or to the vet’s or to the boarder’s if my owner was leaving this place for a week conference. I didn’t get it.

I sat there, and then lay down. Blinking at the ground, I lay there even when my owner patted my head and told me she loved me.  

No, you don’t. You don’t! All you ever do around here is lead me outside, tell me to come back inside and then ignore me the rest of the day. You don’t even have time to pat my head or snuggle with me. You don’t do anything but let me be the mascot of this place. I don’t know anyone. Every office party—Christmas, Thanksgiving, Halloween, Valentine’s Day and St. Patrick’s Day—I’m left out. I howl and bark and wag that tail. But no. I stand or sit there, wondering. Does my owner love me? Does she care? Did she ever? Should I be her dog? Her mascot? Her…pet?

I’m just an office mascot. Sure, she feeds and brushes me. I’m healthy and look good to enhance the office. To make this place shiny and ready for new coworkers to work here every day, ready for a bright new day for them to come in and say hey to my owner and then leave, without so much of a wink towards me. Nothing. I get nothing. 

I thought tearing the Valentine’s Day décor down would make my owner wake up to my loneliness. Something would make her say ‘I’m sorry, Ti. Sorry for making you just have to hide behind leaves of grass stripped away from the world.’ But no. none of that. Just ‘Go away!’ Stop it, Tiger. Stop growling. Stop lunging. Stop attacking your prey. Stop trying to get attention. Just be handsome.

My owner called my name, but I didn’t go to her. She leaned back on her chair and scrunched it in confusion.

So be confused. I’m going to make you pay. Be sorry for how you’ve just made me your mascot. I’m going to make you just my owner. I got up and walked over to the other women around the table. Basking in their words of love and affirmation for their favorite Tiger and animal mascot of their office life, I even barked, my tail whipping back and forth. Some of them laughed, commenting on my joyous countenance. Then I went over to my bed, my owner’s growing anger turning into yelling.

But I did not turn around or go to her. At least some of the other women loved me.

But they weren’t my owner. They were my owner’s friends. I looked down at the soaked part of my bed. Just like that wet spot—ignored. So maybe if I did the same to my owner, she’d understand. She’d care!

As the days went by, I found myself left all alone. I wasn’t pet, patted or snuggled. I just sat there, waiting for my owner to at least notice me. But she didn’t. I sighed. I’m just ignoring her, and she’s just ignoring me. It’s a game. No, it’s a war. I’m ignoring her, so she ignores me. I don’t want revenge. I want love.

I trotted away, towards an open door someone had just walked through. Then as I snuck through to the opposite doors towards me, I saw someone’s eyes towards me, I bolted. Scampering towards the doors I wished someone had opened, I crashed into them. Then I strived to get out of some man’s way, scampering up and growling at him. Biting wasn’t an option—but it’d get me out of here. But I’d also get put down. My eyes crackling with fire, I pulled my lips all back, my teeth bared. Growling heavily, I heard the man tell another person I was going to rip his arm off. Maybe not your arm, but I’ll rip this idea of lovelessness away. So I can be important for once!

The man dragged me back, me all bared teeth and coal-black eyes. I got half-tossed, half-lain down on my bed. “Here, let me dry this place for you, dog!” Then I saw two stockinged legs in front of me a few feet away.

“Thank you, officer. You really made my day. I thought I was going to lose him!”

You gonna lose more than a pet if you don’t start being my loving owner! Isn’t that part of Valentine’s Day? I may hate all the gushiness of it, but at least I get some loving, too, right? I remained an angry animal for the next three weeks. My bowl was pushed towards me, but I nudged it away. My stomach growled. I didn’t care if I was hungry. I drank, but that’s it—back to the bed, whimpering and whining and sleeping and sighing. I didn’t eat some days. I didn’t drink, either. My owner made sure I didn’t die of dehydration or starvation, putting kibbles and water before me. 

When my owner was working elsewhere in the building, I got up and walked outside, miraculously escaping this place. I headed out to find someone who I could love. As I walked among the crowds of people walking to and from on the sidewalks and zooming cars, I headed north. Eventually, I found a dog home. I snuck up to it—darkness coated the inside, like a painter took his brush and swiped the doorway, making a black hole.            

“Hello?” I called, and then backed up as a growling bloodhound appeared and then retreated inside. I looked at it—it seemed cozy. I wished I had my bed. Wet or not, I wanted it. Then I saw some puppies frolicking about, their parents obviously somewhere.

“Come on, man!” A puppy yipped, dashing up to me. Suddenly, two Golden Retrievers hopped over the fence beside us.

“Who are you?” The father asked.

“Oh—just a dog. I used to live somewhere. Now, I don’t have anyone. Especially on Valentine’s Day.”

The male dog nodded, and called his son to him. The puppy followed, and I stood there, watching the two go down a narrow lane towards the end of the fence and around it. I looked over, and jolted when I saw a huge house. I trotted past it, and then stopped dead when I heard snickers coming from far away. Turning my head stiffly, I saw two German Shepherds laughing heartily to each other and walking towards me.

“No, man, you don’t want that house. That’s our place!”

“Then what’s my place?”

One of them cocked its head when they got to me. “You got no owner?”

“Not anymore.”

The two looked at each other. “Well, I guess you can…” He blinked. “Mm. Where did you come from?”

“Uh…an office. I’m its pet mascot.”

“Wow!” The German Shepherd was amazed. “Huh! An office mascot—cool!” He looked at the other one. “Wish I was that special.”  

“Well…it’s not all glitz and glamour. It’s like being a celebrity animal. I mean, you think it’s great. But no. you’re ignored. Frustrated. Bored. Nothing is fun. Not even on Valentine’s Day.”

The two dogs looked at each other and laughed. “What’s that?” As they howled to the blue sky above, I sighed, shaking my head.

“You don’t get it!” I trotted away from these weirdos. When I got to the fence, they called out to me, begging me to stay.

“You’re pretty cool. Hey—want to go play fetch with us?”      

Just then, I heard something creak and then bang shut, and turned to see a child run down the front porch steps. “Fetch. Fetch!” He grabbed a ball and threw it across the yard. It hit the fence and then stayed there on the mulch. Neither dog scampered over. They stood there, looking at me. One barked. 

Sighing, I gave in. We played for a few hours it seemed and then one of them said, “If you’re owned, you need to stay with your owner.”

“Forgive me for asking, but don’t you love her?”

I looked down. Dogs are loyal to their owners, no matter what. I was a dog. I was supposed to be loyal. Helpful. Regardless of my mistress’s treatment. Maybe I could win her back. Even with all the neglect I’ve faced. I’m neglecting her.    

I told them I’d be back. Then I ran back to the office building, into the office room and nudged her arm. She told me to go sit while she works. I waited. A little while later, I saw her grab a cup of coffee, drink it as she worked, and then I wagged my tail, barking. Whining to go outside, I tried grabbing her attention. But she let me out, I did my business and then she walked me back inside, returning to her work. I went to my pillow, and lay down. Days went by with me leaving the food bowl untouched. I didn’t drink much.

“You okay?” Was her only words. Nothing more.

Then I left. I went back to those German Shepherds, but then went on, finding my owner.

My real owner. Someone who would love me.

Especially on this Valentine’s Day.

When I entered a pound, I turned around. When I met an alleyway, I turned the other way. When I got to a dog park, the sky only drew dark. Alone at night, I sat under a light, wondering why my owner wouldn’t hug and snuggle with me. I scampered up as some people passed by. A boy begged his mother for a dog, but she pulled at him, saying he already had two German Shepherds! I perked my ears. They must be their owners!      

I made the difficult decision to grab my owner’s attention, having bounded back to her. Weeks went by, but not one snuggle time between us. Did she not want me? Was I just a cool mascot? I didn’t know. But I was faithful to my owner. Because she was the only one who had bought and fed and gave me water. Gave me my bed. Gave me a family.

One day, my owner didn’t show up. I heard she was sick at home. I tried comforting her, leaping up on the bed. But she tossed and turned, pushing me away. Soon, I found myself out on the streets again. Howling to the sky, I knew I was abandoned.             

Who neglects their own dog?      

I trotted the streets, the alley dogs and cats staring curiously at me. I told them I was looking for a home. They said they wished they had a family, too. I took up the lead to help them get adopted. A few years later, they all got picked up by people, and I returned to my owner. She stared at me, and I whined, whimpered and finally pawed at her hand. She knew what that meant—for her to pet me! But she didn’t. I remained loyal. One day, she purposely forgot to take me to work.  

One day, I overheard two people say something about National Golden Retriever Day. I barked happily. Could they take me? Could I celebrate, finally? They put me in their car, put me on a leash and then, at home, they fluffed my coat, groomed me and pet me for what seemed like forever. Panting and wagging my tail harder than ever, I barked and jumped up to give my new owners a kiss. They laughed, wrapping their arms around me. Hugging me fierce, they could finally celebrate Golden Retriever Day. A furry friend would complete this day.    

This Valentine’s Day.

A few years later, I realized my new owners just loved me on National Golden Retriever Day.

I left, diligently searching for the perfect owner.    

Maybe a perfect furry family.

I didn’t know. But I hoped it was the latter. I met an abandoned Golden Retriever.

We want a home.  

A home for us. A home of love.