Is your dog preventing you from getting work done?
By Brian Fischler
I hate to brag, but there really isn’t anything better than getting to work from home. In winter, it is great to be able to roll out of bed throw on a pair of sweats and go to work. In summer, being able to work in shorts and flops isn’t too shabby either. The one rule to working from home and being productive is discipline. You have to get your work done, even if the Yankees are playing a day game. I have been working from home for years, and have gotten in the habit of not turning the TV on until at least 7 PM. The only thing that gets in my way of getting my work done is my furry four legged friend.
Even though my Yellow Lab Nash is highly trained and very well disciplined, he can’t differentiate between me sitting at my desk and reading Facebook or me sitting at my desk and working. To him they look the same. It’s great when Nash comes over and scoots under my desk. He picks my legs up, turns around a few times to find his spot, plops down, and makes himself comfortable, while I continue working away.
Sometimes I will be in the middle of working on a deadline when I hear and sense Nash coming over, but instead of going under my desk, he will just sit there and stare at me. I tell him sorry buddy, Daddy is working, but he doesn’t move. I then say, come on buddy come on underneath, gesturing him underneath the desk. A lot of the time he will oblige, but other times he walks over to me, brushes up against my arm, turns around and gives me the butt wanting a scratch pose. Of course I oblige!
Then there are the times when not even a butt scratch will do. It’s all attention on Nash time. When I signal for him to come under the desk, he pulls a fast one on me, by taking my arm, and placing it snuggly under his chin. He’s in full on ‘I know I’m cute and don’t care what you are doing’ mode. He will stand right next to me with my arm securely placed under his chin. I try telling him sorry buddy, but Daddy needs two hands to type. Nope he’s not giving it back.
Finally there is the ‘Nash decides it is play time’ situation. This is the one that almost always scares me to death because it starts off with a loud thump of a bone slamming on the floor after being thrown up into the air then as if it is a routine, Nash pounces on the bone, paws it around a little, then picks it up in his mouth and brings it over to me. He will hand the bone to me wanting me to hold it for him, as he knows it is easier and more fun for him if I hold the bone while he chews it. Nash is more in to bones than his toys. His bones are scattered all around the apartment, so much so that my obituary will probably read “He is survived by his loving dog, ironically it was one of his loving dog’s bones that he slipped on killing him! Well at least if that is the case, it will be play and not work that kills me!