By Ben Krull
With Take Your Dog to Work Day coming up on June 20, I am reminded of the time I took my pet goldfish to the office. I named her after my beloved Aunt Goldie, who was known for her tasty gefilte fish. Before visiting my office, Goldie had never been outside my apartment.
For the subway commute I placed her in a water-filled plastic
Baggy, and brought along Dr. Seuss’s “One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish.” As I read to Goldie straphangers openly gawked at her, as if they’d never seen a goldfish on the subway before.
A hyperactive Yorkshire terrier startled me by sticking her
scruffy head out from a woman’s handbag, and barking at the Baggy. Yet Goldie, used to the unwanted intrusions that come with living in a fishbowl, maintained a placid demeanor.
At work I transferred her to a bowl that I filled with French
bottled water — the same brand she drank at home. My boss passed by my desk, humming the theme from “Jaws.” How cliché!
At lunchtime I put Goldie in her plastic Baggy and brought her to a diner. I filled a glass with water and placed her inside. The way she happily swam about, nobody would have guessed that this was her first trip to a restaurant.
I ordered a tuna salad, which was promptly brought to the table.
What was I thinking? I quickly threw a napkin over Goldie’s glass.
Back at the office, I considered taking Goldie to an afternoon meeting. All my co-workers had seen her baby pictures and would have loved to meet her. But fearing that someone might have a poorly trained dog with them, I left her in the bowl.
When I returned to my desk, Goldie, who normally had non-stop energy, was perfectly still. I assumed she was napping.
After a few minutes I became worried. I splashed her spring water and prodded her with my finger, but she remained motionless.
Panicked, I violently shook her bowl, almost spilling Goldie’s lifeless body over the side.
Was I at fault? Hoping that Goldie had died from cancer or heart disease, rather than from her visit to the office, I called my veterinarian and asked him to do an autopsy. He told me that he was busy performing heart surgery on a cockroach. “Very funny,” I said angrily.
Distraught, I asked my boss what to do with the body. He callously suggested I give Goldie a funeral at sea…in the men’s room toilet.
I wrapped Goldie in a handkerchief and had her cremated. Her fish oil sits in an urn next to my bed.After taking bereavement leave I bought a new goldfish. I miss being with my pet during the day but won’t be bringing her to the office. Instead, I hope to find a job that lets me work from home.
Ben Krull, an attorney in Lower Manhattan’s Family Court, is a freelance writer.
