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Ramona goes to work
Wednesday, October 10 2018
As I was getting ready for work this morning, I found a PostIt note attached to the upstairs bathroom's mirror. It said that "Monie" (Ramona the Dog) wanted to go to work with me today and that Neville also wanted to go to work. Neville hasn't been able to go to the bookstore on Wednesdays since I got this new job, because that would've left Ramona alone with just the cats all day. (We want our dogs to have the company of at least one dog or one human during the day.) Taking Ramona would add considerably to the logistical complexity of the day, but I thought I'd give it a try. I loaded a dog bed into the car along with some kibble. By then, Gretchen was awake, and with her cheerful encouragement, Ramona and Neville were up and about. I fed Ramona her breakfast and took her on the one of the shortest dog walks I've ever given to an off-leash dog. She pooped when we got to the Farm Road, so I immediately turned around and loaded her into the Subaru.
At the workplace, the only one there was Morning Dave. He's an older guy who looks like he might be a fitness nerd; he often brings a bicycle to work and usually works from a standing desk. Fortunately, he really seemed to like dogs. Indeed, the only person in the workplace today who didn't seem to be even a little bit excited about Ramona was the developer John. But today also happened to be the day that he gave his two week notice.
As for Ramona herself, she surprised me by how well-behaved she was. She went out of her way to say hello to everyone when they appeared (except for Joe, the one-man IT department), and half way through the day she went around to everyone to check in a second time. But she didn't jump up on anyone, drag things out of the trash, or get overly playful (all things she has a tendency to do).
When it came time to walk Ramona, I took her back behind the building. It's an old brick factory with another building behind it, one with a daycare center in it. Behind that is a small patch of woods containing a few pieces of ancient rusting machinery and beyond that is a brushy field full of multiflora rose and other things one wouldn't want to step on barefoot. That back field seems to go on as an endless rural corridor beneath a powerline, but I didn't have time for a long walk.
For lunch, I fixed myself a "fish" sandwich using untoasted bread and microwave-heated Gardein "fish" patties with lots of mustard and hot sauce (I'd brought mustard, but it really could've used some faux mayonnaise and lettuce).
For Ramona's second and final walk of the day, I was confident enough in her behavior to walk her entirely off-leash (also, there were fewer kids running around and nobody was eating at the picnic tables). Again we went around to the back, but this time Ramona didn't want to go any further than the back of the building. She was distracted by a few gaps in the foundation where woodchucks likely lived.
Ramona definitely helped me break through further with my new co-workers, who haven't really known what to do with me since I started working here. I might not have much to say about major league sports or videogames, but if we all speak "dog love," that's something to start with. True, these people aren't coming at dogs from the same moral stance that I do; their dogs tend to be purebred, and they're given to making breedist generalizations. But I'll take it. Indeed, I think the rapport over Ramona helped me break through to an important piece of information: the non-attachment "attachments" being produced by the migration script I've been working on needed not to be attachments but instead needed to be filled-in columns in various tables. That was an important thing to know, and changing my migration script gave me the kind of work I like to do for the finally couple hours of the workday.
On the drive home with Ramona, I took the Frank Sottile detour again so I could go to Home Depot and buy a wrench that might be capable of removing the rusted-on oxygen sensor from the Subaru. I needed either a flexible-necked 7/8 inch spanner or a low-profile flexible-necked 3/8 socket wrench (I actually have such a thing, but it was made cheaply and the ratchet fails under stress). I'd been hoping Gretchen would take the car somewhere to have that sensor replaced by an auto mechanic with all the right tools, but so far that hasn't happened.
Back at the house, it was yet another strangely-warm evening, warm enough to leave the front door wide open. I eventually made a pot of rice in the rice cooker, but I didn't want to commit to anything beyond that. Otherwise I would've made either chili or pasta, since that's all I ever really want to make.
Ramona in my new workplace.
Such a good girl!
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