Vive La (Puppy) Resistance

Last week Fable staged a revolution at daycare. 

Honestly, I could leave it there. But the details are simply too much fun not to share. 

So here we go.

I had to go into the office -- which is roughly a 45 minute drive from my apartment -- and decided we'd do our next daycare trial at the same time (since it was on the way). I'd be at the office for the morning, and could pick Fabes up at noon on the way home.

It met all the daycare requirements of 'not all day' and 'not too early.'

I dropped her off and pretty much hoped for the best. 

Rolling into the office, I got to work with my staff dragging out old furniture and figuring out a new plan for our main office (all masked and windows open). We're a couple hours into our work, hauling this monolithic desk -- that is too big to fit anywhere and I can't understand why it existed in the first place -- out of storage when I hear my phone ringing. 

There are three missed calls. One from my husband. One from my mom. And one from daycare. 

No voicemails are needed to confirm the obvious: my beloved fur child once again requires collection from daycare. I sigh and prepare to go get her, only to turn around and go back to the office to finish my work. (We're a one car household. As I had said car, doggo collection was on me).

Still, I ring my hubs to confirm I'll get the monster.

At which point he tells me her daycare called, highly distraught, and explained that Fable had effectively staged a revolt. 

According to daycare, Fable walked through the building, opening all the gates. Small dogs, large dogs -- all unleashed unto each other. Courtesy of my dog.   

I had questions.

I also laughed nearly the entire 30 min drive to get her. 

Sure enough, I roll in and the daycare worker manning the reception desk informed me that Fable not only opened all the gates... she kept doing it! This person stared at me, completely serious, as she explained that, "after we closed the gates, she'd open them again."

I simply stared at them, because saying "no shit" felt a bit cruel.

Then they wouldn't let me pay for the stay. And told me Fable wasn't allowed to return. 

I laughed and laughed... 

What else could I do? There's a point at which arguments and identifying the obvious become redundant. If this daycare had the capacity to handle even moderately intelligent dogs, they'd have child locks on those gates. And if the staff understood how to handle dogs, instead of just "liking" them, they'd have known she'd keep doing it -- unless they actively discourage the activity. 

That daycare didn't deserve Fable. 

So I gave my girl a good pat, and we left.

Then I took her through the Starbucks Drivethru and got her the biggest puppuccino going. (Puppucino = giant cup of whipped cream that dogs go bonkers over). Then she came to my meetings, got all the praise in the world. My colleagues decided Fable was protesting the segregation of dogs in the daycare, and I can't say they're wrong. She sure knows how to take a stand!

Apparently I've raised a strong, intelligent, politically active fur-child. 

No. Regrets. 

Note from Fable: Puppucinos are my true love. I lift my front right paw in bliss every time I get one.