Bushington’s Play Pen

    My children had to go to school, my wife had to go to the supermarket, which left me and Bushington; and I’m not leaving Bushington alone again, because what if he finds his PDA?  So, Bushington has to go to work with me, again.   We drive together; Bushington in a cage, me in the driver’s seat.   I secure the cage (with the seat belt) to the passenger seat, so it won’t move around and after 20 minutes, we’re at work.  Not Bushington’s work, my work.  But I thought about the last time Bushington was here and considering how good he was with the kids (after all, he is a therapy dog) and I decide to leave him in the children’s play area in the waiting room. I put a leash on him and place the handle of his leash under the leg of the coffee table, so he won’t escape again.  

      So, I’m at the front desk having patience fill out their medical history, emergency contacts, HIPPA forms, and other things and Bushington is with the kids, behaving (he’s letting a girl pet him and isn’t barking).  He tries using the poor puppy dog eye routine on me, but I’m too smart for that.  No, Bushington, I won’t let you sit on my lap at the computer and e-mail/ text your friends.  No.  

      So, things are going smooth, so I decide to head to the break room to get a cup of coffee.  I am tired.   So, I get coffee with 2 pink sugars, 2 packets of cream, and a glaze donut, and when I come back to the waiting room, Bushington’s gone.  

    I should’ve known better.   His leash is still under the coffee table, but his collar isn’t.  Thank God.  So, I leave the coffee and donut by the desk, get my bag of dog treats from under the desk, tell my supervisor what’s happening, head outside, and call his name:  

    “Bushington.   I got a treat.  Come here, Bushington,” I look around, but there’s nothing.  I go back in and check the phone log in the office and there’s nothing unusual.   So, where is he?   I have to think.  The wife and kids are going to kill me.   I should’ve taken him with me to the coffee room and the bathroom, but there’s WiFi there.   So, I take a pause and remember what Dr. Douglas Adam’s book, “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” says:   “Don’t Panic”.  

      Think.  There are no security cameras inside the doctor’s office, but there are security cameras outside the office.   So, I look out the window from the office and see the number for the landlord and I’m about to call my wife’s office, then the land lord, and I feel for my pager, but it’s gone.  Bad Bushington.  

     I call up my wife’s office, but the secretary/executive assistant says she’s busy, so I leave a message.  I call up the landlord and he says he’ll let security know.  

*

     I go back to the desk and help new patients fill out paperwork.  Their kids play in the play area and some ask when the cute dog’ll be back.   I don’t know.  

     “Well, where is he, Mister?” a kid asks.  

      “I don’t know,” I say.  

    Then I remember Bushington wanted to go to college and there is a college nearby, so I call the college and the campus police say they’ll call me if they hear anything.   Then, one of the kids says something peculiar.  

     “Well, if the cute doggy isn’t here, can you please play with us?”

      Me?   I think.   No, that’s ridiculous.  I’m an executive assistant, not a child care associate.  But I did lose Bushington.   So, after some thought I decide, at 10:05 am, when it’s slow anyway, to play with the kids.  I get the paperwork when the patients are done and put the paperwork in the chart for the doctor, but then I play with the kids.

*

     The games are elementary.   We play tag, hide n’ seek, Go Fish, I read them stories, but I am, between my duties as an executive assistant, able to have fun.   I laugh, which I haven’t done in months.   I learn one kid’s name is Pete and he’s five and just started kindergarten.  He only knows half his ABCs, but tells me the ABC song is sung to “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” and I didn’t know that.  

      I also meet Sue.   Sue says she’s a ballerina and wants to be a Rockette.  She has lots of friends she loves and lets me play with her doll.   She tells me she thinks doctor’s offices are boring, doctors are scary, and thinks we need more coloring books.  

     I then meet, Hank, who is seven and says he wants to be a brave fireman.   He says his dad is a fireman and Hank wants to be just like his Dad when he grows up.   I wonder what my kids want to be when they grow up. 

     And I think about my family.  Maybe I’ve been too serious with my wife, my kids, and even Bushington, but Bushington was bad.  

*

    My supervisor then tells me he needs to speak with me.   I’m probably spending too much time with the kids in the waiting room and not enough time behind the computer.  

     My supervisor takes a pager out of his right pocket and says it went off in the coffee room.   He asks if it’s mine.   After examining it and realizing it has two buttons (one shows the numbers called, the other deletes the numbers), I realize it is mine, but did not recognize the number in the window.  

      I am not given a written warning by my supervisor, but told I should keep better track of my personal belongings.  But, I look at the number:   363-3456.   I don’t recognize it, but call it on the office phone

*

“Hello, you paged me?” I asked.  

“Yea, I found this number on a dog’s collar at the train station.”

“Train Station?   What Train Station?”

     The gentleman tells me where he is, but says his train (the gentleman, not Bushington’s) leaves  in one hour, so I’d better come quick.  I take my lunch break, get Bushington back, put him back by the kids, and take him with me to the coffee room and the bathroom.   But, since then, I haven’t gotten to play with the kids.   I miss having fun with them, but they love Bushington and so do I, even though he is challenging.