Christmas Tree Confession

It was a while ago since Kenzo joined me at work in our Danish office. As I had no appointments that day, and only boring paper work to look forward to, I imagined it would be a perfect opportunity to bring Kenzo with me once again. We could take some breaks playing in the snow and add some fun to a day that otherwise had a very pale outlook.

The reception area of the office building was ornamented with a Christmas tree, positioned right by the entrance door in an attempt to add some seasonal inspiration to the armies of office workers passing through each day.

While wrestling with two computer bags over my shoulders and Kenzo's leash in one hand, I opened the front door. Two people approached, and in an empathic moment, I stood still and kept the door open for them, while we exchanged good morning hello's with a smile. Love that about Denmark, where people are so polite, and you even greet complete strangers in the mornings and afternoons. It gives such a good start of the day.

Continuing into the hall, the leash suddenly tensed. I looked back in surprise, as Kenzo usually just follows me, and what I saw next made my heart skip a beat. Kenzo stood by the Christmas tree, with one leg lifted, his sprinkler system already in the "on" position. I jerked the leash in some kind of automatic emergency response my brain fired into my right arm - sorry Kenzo - to interrupt the image that now is imprinted in my memory forever.

Nobody else was in the entrance hall, which softened the total embarrassment of the moment a little. I quickly dropped off Kenzo in our office and returned with some cleaning agents. My mind was working overtime. He never did that before. It was so easy to teach him as a pup that a Christmas tree in the house doesn't mean he just acquired an inside potty service. I was baffled.

When we went for our first walk, I kept Kenzo on my side that was opposite to the Christmas tree just in case. I knew that for a dog, no cleaning agent in the world could have covered up the odor, and it would have been a magnet to Kenzo despite my cleaning attempts. Two men were standing beside the Christmas tree, looking at two small puddles. That can't be, I thought, I just cleaned it.

"Some bastard just let his dog pee on the tree", one of the men said. "Really?", I replied cowardly, realizing that other office dogs had of course picked up the smell, and every male dog now passing by the tree, went on a mission to drop off their own business card. "You couldn't do that, could you?" the man said smiling to Kenzo. "Eh ... no ... nee", I stuttered. I felt a glow rushing up to my cheeks, something I hadn't felt since high-school. I am such a bad liar.

The man, still looking at Kenzo, concluded, "You are a good boy". We really had to move on now, as this was becoming too embarrassing, but that meant making a risky pass of the Christmas tree. This time with a full bladder. And the men would also see the letters G.U.I.L.T.Y. that someone must have painted on my back in the meanwhile. Taking a deep breath, a leap of faith, and three steps later, we made it passed the tree. Kenzo The Merciful didn't punish my dishonesty. "You are, you absolutely are, a good boy", I whispered to my partner in crime.