I’m Starfox, the 12-year-old long-haired chihuahua, outerwear fashion icon and Chief Exe-CUTE-ive Officer of Agency 877. You may have seen me scurrying around Turbine Flats before, so I thought I’d formally introduce myself.
Ever since my dad Adam founded this agency almost two years ago, he’s been taking me to work with him just about every day. It’s no secret I’m spoiled! While I despise being a lone wolf and greatly appreciate the company of my cobarkers, research has proven I do just as much good for them as they do for me.
Studies show pets in the workplace (that’s me) reduce stress, nurture productivity, improve the mental health and wellbeing of staff members and boost office morale. That’s right, I’m a walking good vibe.
As I approach my third year on the job, I’m still not quite sure what makes me so irresistibly charming. Is it my velvety texture? My resemblance to a cinnamon roll when I curl up in a ball? The presents I leave on the rug after a big meal? I’m uncertain.
According to science, I provide mental support, reduce blood pressure and increase interaction among my cobarkers significantly. Taking a short break to pet me is a great way for the humans to de-stress when they’re feeling overwhelmed. Seriously, pet me any time. Any. Time.
I’m glad I can serve as a fluffy source of comfort at the Flats, because unfortunately, most workplaces aren’t so welcoming of my kind. Only 8 percent of workplaces in the U.S. allow dogs to join their owners in the office, according to TIME. While that’s a paw-thetic statistic, in my opinion, at least it’s up from 5 percent in 2013.
I hope to shed some hair, I mean, light on this issue and one day live in a world where all dogs are treated like humans—more specifically, furry, pampered newborn babies—just like me.
It’s not all chew toys and snuggles, though. Life at the Agency can get pretty ruff sometimes.
After a recent doctor visit, it appears the humans have suddenly ceased giving me food scraps. They taunt me with their McGriddles and Moon Cheese. They feast inches above me while outright ignoring my pleas of misery. I know I’m 84 in dog years now, and my digestive system isn’t quite what it used to be, but I have a bone to pick with them. Will I starve?
The humans also love to wake me with their loud voices and footsteps, allowing for only 18 or 19 hours of sleep per day rather than my desired 20.
My final and most severe botherance is when the humans pick me up and place me on their laps, then fail to give me constant pets. I ask you, then, what’s the point? The amount of times I’ve had to paw at their arms to resume the scratchies is, frankly, absurd.
And don’t even get me started about the time dad left me at work and didn’t realize it ’til he was halfway home.
Despite my canine troubles, I love my cobarkers dearly and I know they love me, too. They’re always around to keep me company during the dog days of life, and I’m there to lighten the mood and teach them a thing or two about fashion.
All in all, I’m a great little buddy to have around. Don’t take it from me, take it from science! Next time you’re in Turbine Flats, come say hey and give this super-soft CEO a Flexi-Stick.
Can’t take your pet to work, but still want to spoil them a little extra after reading this post? Check out this article: https://bit.ly/2XCrbG0