I liked my job. I was good at it, my clients loved me, and there was a somewhat flexible schedule (you were only paid for billable time, but you were still expected to be there 5 days, roughly 6+ hours a day.) I lived close, it was ok to take an hour (sometimes an hour and a half) for lunch. I didn’t have many clients, management made no indication that they wanted me to take on more even when I asked for more work, so I figured the time was right… I announced that I was thinking about getting a puppy. My boss was thrilled; I had her blessing.

Meanwhile, she had hired a pregnant woman. My boss loved kids and family and whatnot. And realistically at the time, it seemed like the job would be an ok fit for this woman. She had the necessary skills so not much training required; some of the job could be done via a telecommute on days she didn’t feel well, and everyone else in the office knew how to work with the clients she was to be given, so come time to have the baby she’d be covered, so, yay.

Skip ahead a month and a half… I was on a waiting list for a rescue (for a particular breed) and my boss tells me about these puppies she found for sale on the interwebs. I took one look, and was head over heels in love with this one puppy. I’m not particularly spiritual or whatever (atheist, actually) but sometimes dogs have a way of finding you. I called the breeder and After work I went to the ATM, and made the 5 hour drive. The conditions were awful and unsafe, and she was the only puppy not spoken for. I tossed my money at them, and was on the phone to the police before we were out of the driveway.

We were in the vet’s office the next morning because on the way home I noticed a malformed limb. After her initial puppy check up, we were sent to the orthopedic specialist. One of her leg bones wasn't growing, and for a giant breed dog that’s not an ideal situation. It would require a multitude of surgeries and vet appointments at a specialty hospital about an hour away from my home over the course of a year or more. Thankfully, I had the perfect job for it (I thought). She was in for her first surgery a couple of days later.

I had discussed the situation with my boss to let her know that there was more responsibility than anticipated with this puppy, and would require me to be away from the office more than I had anticipated. She looked at me and asked “Can’t you just trade her in or get your money back? It’s just a dog.” I swallowed my surprise and shock. I assured her I would keep her apprised of all appointments, and it wouldn't effect my work. She shrugged and said “Ok.” and I went back to my desk.

It was during this same time that Pregnancy Chick (as she will now be known) had started to become, well, unreliable. She was forgetting time sensitive assignments; not clearing her appointments; pulling no-call-no-shows; and registering for baby gifts on client time. The bulk of her work was falling on the other people in the office, and just as everyone would start to get mad, she’d whip out the latest ultrasound photo and all was right with the world. Meanwhile, I was more than capable of pulling her slack, and mine and juggling puppy care. My clients knew the situation, had my personal cell phone number for when I was out-of-office. I bent over backwards to keep them and my boss happy. but it wasn’t enough.

One morning when Pregnancy Chick had called out, I was standing up to put on my coat and leave for a a few hours to go to an appointment my boss knew about. She pulled me into her office and screamed “I’m tired of you taking that fucking dog to fucking appointments. You can’t leave.”

That was the beginning of the end for me.

It was the first time I have ever experienced childfree discrimination to such a degree. Sure I’d run into the “picking up slack” for other breeders, “well you don’t have kids” holiday shifts, and I've had the occasional bout of maternity leave jealousy at other jobs, but this time… The blatant speciesism, CF discrimination, and lack of empathy just hit me like a mac truck. Years later I still get mind numbingly angry at the whole situation.

What I had to do was no less important than pregnancy chick’s personal emergencies, and I managed to handle my responsibilities like a champion; keeping the customers apprised and happy, while also handling the extra work from P.C’s blatant lack of caring, and taking a dog to an ortho appointment once a week.

But none of what I just said matters, because a dog is just a dog and I don’t have kids. Right?