“How was your day at work, dear?”

“Oh, you know, the usual.  Fed the dogs. Walked the dogs. Played with the dogs. Oh yeah, and I got a real swell 30 minutes of uninterrupted work done!”

That’s more or less what an average day of work is for me–most days I don’t mind the “dog breaks,” since it helps break up the monotony of the day.

There are those days, like, oh TODAY for instance, when the gruesome twosome desire a little more attention than usual. The day started out like every other: The dogs were just crashed out in the office with me.

Around lunchtime, after their second walk, they turned on me–instead of settling back down after eating, they opted for some good ‘ol-fashioned doggie mutiny.  Every time I got up from my chair, picked something up, scratched my head–any motor-skill activity–the dogs perked up and headed for the office door with tails wagging and mouths in full pant-mode.

In other words: “Dude, we’re sick of this place. Let’s go downstairs where the food and toys are.”

The closer I walk to the door, the closer to the stairs they get. When one foot actually steps outside the office, they are in a full sprint to the living room.

I’ll try to ignore the furry gang-up as long as possible, but become fully “mutinized” after a good solid hour or so. 

I’ll admit, Pom and Casper have me very well-trained. Maybe someday they can “show” me in the first-ever Westminster Human Show.