A daily account of life at Fox&Co. from the perspective of Harley, our beloved office pug
I wake to the pitter patter of footsteps as Dad approaches my suite, just as he does every morning.
“Harley”, he calls, “Harley it’s time to wake up!”
I spring to my little pug paws and gaze up, waiting for my beloved dad to appear. When he moves the puppy gate, he greets me with a warm Dad hug, and I respond in my usual fashion - wagging my lower half uncontrolably and headbutting my way into his heart. Mornings like this are my favorite. With Dad comes the promise of breakfast, beautiful morning nibbles.
We gallop into the kitchen and Dad prepares my meal of kibble, medium-well just how I like it, and slightly chilled wet food with a sprinkle of caviar. Only the best for the internet’s most revered motion design dog.
Being the perfectionist that I am, I lick the bowl absolutely clean. Then, as per usual, I scamper across the house and cannon ball into bed with Mum. Always happy to see her perfect fur baby, we spend some quality cuddle time together as Dad prepares himself our day together.
A short while later, Dad reappears holding a mysterious yellow object. On high alert, I race out of the bed with the speed of a cheetah, ready to defend Dad against the floppy beast in his hand. Contrary to popular belief, pugs are vicious protectors! As the unfamiliar thing descends, I let out a ferocious snore to assert dominance. It doesn’t work. The mustard monster is getting closer. closer. CLOSER!
It's on me! Shaking, running, scratching, it won't let go. Panic, panic! Tell Dad I love him!
Wait. Why isn’t Dad helping me? I look up to discover nothing but admiration on his face. He reaches inside his pocket, and pulls out the glowing rectangle he always carries around. He’s taking a picture. Flipping the device to show me his masterpiece, I cringe. It’s pouring outside and he’s put me in the rain jacket.
In my state of utter humiliation, I waddle out into the rain and into the daddy dog mobile. Guess I won’t be riding in style today. No matter. Driving down the road, the gloom starts to clear and my bottom starts to wag again. The moment I look forward to most everyday is almost here.
Dad stops the car and retrieves me from the passenger seat. We’ve made it. As we ascend the staircase to my office, my heart begins to race. I climb as fast as my little legs can carry me. I leap onto the landing, and I have arrived.
As I parade down the aisle to the center of the office, the faces of my subjects beam with delight. Their master has arrived. They are all here. Just to see me!
I try my hardest to keep it all from going to my head, but the power is so sweet. If I were to disappear, what would the humans do? Perhaps I'll speak with Melissa about it later. But on second thought, why bother. These peasants never understand my sophisticated speech anyways.
For the next few hours, I make my rounds with the doting humans in my office. Each of them calls my name when they see me. Some even hand me treats in exchange for small acts of acknowledgement like a high five. Daunting at times, I try to stay present for each interaction, sprinkling in my puggish charm for each of my adoring subjects. It really is hard to be so loved.
A high pitched squeal catches my attention. The silly new intern is beckoning me to come closer. Wide eyed, she positions her hand as if she holds a treat in her finger tips, but we both know she couldn’t locate the treat box if I stood on my hind legs and pointed it out. She has so much to learn.
Wonderful Dad passes by me and heads for the door - that's my cue. I welcome every new guest into our lovely office. Could it be a client, an old friend, a delivery boy!? It’s my job to wow whoever walks through our doors. Floor them with my charm and charisma, setting the tone for the rest of their time here.
I dutifully follow Dad and our guest from the door to the meeting room. It would be irresponsible of me to be absent when the important matters are discussed. Once everyone settles in for the gathering, the guest shifts his attention from the beautiful pug at his feet to my Dad sitting across from him. Little does he know, I’m an integral part of the operation.
We make a great team. Dad does all the talking and keeps the guest engaged. I remain here, holding my ground, saucer eyes glued to the stranger. Nothing gets past me. I sit patiently waiting for any false moves or suspicious actions. Always watching. Watching for fidgets, under the table texts, and, of course, for any food to drop.
An hour passes by without any alarming signs from our guest. Entrusting Dad to finish the meeting without me, I turn towards the door and squeeze my head through the crack, opening it up for the rest of my hot bod. I have one more pressing matter to deal with.
I must find my bone.
Nose open wide and senses on high alert, I chase the scent of my most prized possession. A secure hiding spot is crucial to the success of my rule. If an office worker were to discover the true power behind the bone, all would be lost.
Is it under the desk? Inside that shoe? As I head towards the left the scent grows stronger. This is an everyday struggle for me. It takes about 40 minutes to locate the bone. I’m that good at hiding it. *pug dab*
Finally, I uncover the treasure in the kitchen tucked behind the refrigerator. Enjoying my bone immensely, I bring it to my favorite window and look out towards the lovely Wellington skyline. Most pugs would be content in my position, a noble pug with rule over a whole office. But that’s not me. I’m an ambitious pug. One day, the entire city will love me just as the office does. As I strut down the city streets on the weekends, many Wellingtonions stare as I pass by. Some even approach me, begging to stroke my luscious fur. I oblige, forever on the campaign trail.
Dad breaks my daydream and informs me that it's time to go home. Bidding goodbye to my lovely subjects, I prepare myself for what comes next. Although I take my day job very seriously, my side hustle as the dinner time vacuum cleaner requires constant vigilance. But no matter where I am, in a meeting, greeting my subjects, or slaying my side job, I’m always waiting for the food to drop.