I had this problem with a pampered princess co-worker once who brought in her Pekingese one afternoon. Since we’re all dog lovers we pet the little beastie and brought it water and she spent the rest of the day with us (about 3 hours) and we’d play with the dog for a while and go back to work, all was well. Until she brought her in one afternoon the next week, then a couple of days after that, and finally just started going to get her at lunch and keeping her there everyday. Again, offices just aren’t the place for a dog, and I’m NUTS about my dogs.
The princess’s excuse was that “Lulu [the Peke] has allergies and separation anxiety and I’m always afraid what’s going to happen to her”, which of course asks the question “Who gives a shit? It’s your dog and we’re trying to work here!”
I really liked this co-worker except for when I really didn’t- she was 30ish and well educated but you knew before you were ever told that she was the only child of rich parents who convinced her that her farts smelled like fresh cut melon and could cure gout. It was a problem that none of us would address to the woman herself because, while she could be fun and funny and a pleasure to work with, she was famous for her tantrums and her-ass-on-her-cold-shoulders treatment when pissed for any reason, so we confidentially told our boss, who loved dogs and who we trusted, to do the right thing, and he understood perfectly.
Since once in a blue moon an employee, usually a student worker, might bring in a pet for a few minutes (but nothing like the tenure of Lulu the Spazzy Peke) and I’d brought in my pup by request when he was a baby everybody wanted to see (he was there about 30 minutes before I took him home) he sent out an email to everybody that didn’t specify Princess. It said something to the effect of “As much as we all love animals, and as much as I wish we could bring them in everyday for the pleasure they bring us, unfortunately we must stop. Our insurance company and university regulations forbid them because of the potential damage fleas or allergies or even a bite [because the meekest dog will bite] could possibly subject us to. Sorry to sound like the bad guy for I love my dogs dearly, but we must comply.”
You would have thought that the email had read “That dog is causing bubonic plague and must be cut out of the Earth, burned, and the ashes thrown into the river!” She fired back an email indignant at the notion that her dog (who had not been named) had fleas (“I bathe her twice a week!”) or would bite (“she weighs 9 pounds- what damage could she do?”) and particularly furious at the one woman who had addressed the issue to Princess’s face, a haughty aristocratic Marx Brothers matron I’ll call Claudia, Princess stated “and because of the regal bitterness of one unnamed employee we all must suffer the loss of a beloved pet in order to let them feel powerful” and even some “My pretty, and your little dog” reference- we all read it and our jaw dropped (and we remembered why we’d been anxious about addressing it ourselves, because she could make the small office wing miserable when pissed).
I’d have fired her (or at least not renewed her contract) for insubordination for this and similar incidents, but unfortunately one of the VPs of the institution, who only saw the goofy likeable charming side of her and whose gout the Princess had farted on, told her (when Princess appealed to her) that technically she couldn’t bring Lulu anymore but that “What I don’t know won’t hurt me”. So the damn hypoallergenic bitch continued to come to work and half the time she brought her dog with her.