Yesterday marked the start of the first full week of school and also the first morning confiscations of the school year.
With minimal frisking—this ain’t my first rodeo—I bagged an iPod, an MP3 player, and a set of earbuds I thought I’d left in Chicago from an eleven-year old who honestly may not have noticed they were still attached to her, and also a bulldog puppy named Meatloaf, whose seven-year old thought I was kidding when I said she wasn’t allowed to bring toys to school without asking her teacher first.
I promised Sunny I’d take good care of him all day. Remarkably, this worked and she handed him over with minimal fuss and a heartening touch of guilt.
To be honest, I meant to leave him in the car, but tossed him in my bag instead, where he quietly tangled himself in my badge lanyard.
When I pulled out my badge to clock in, there he was.
And since he was, I decided to put him to work.
Meatloaf turned out to be the perfect library page: eager, willing, and remarkably quiet, considering his owner.
He helped answer the phone:
Look up information for patrons:
And sort magazines (from his expression, clearly not his favorite):
He also shared my dinner and helped me hone my Flappy Bird skillz* on Jane’s iPod before napping in my lunchbag for the rest of my shift.
At the end of the day, I returned one very sleepy puppy to his equally sleepy little girl just in time for him to tell her all about his day before I tucked them both into bed.
This morning, I didn’t have to remove him from Sunny’s backpack.
I found him hiding in my purse. Wearing my lanyard.
*Which are nonexistent. Someone needs to invent a game where you’re supposed to bash a digital bird into the same building over and over. I would be the reigning champion of the world.