A Field Report from the Office, by Lars (1-year-old Dachshund, Assistant Head of Security)

I have lapsed in my communication with you and can only apologise. it is most remiss of me. You might surmise that this means I have also lapsed in my security duties, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

I have in fact been extremely busy over the summer keeping the staff, volunteers and visitors in line.

The highlight of my day continues, of course, to be greeted by Julia. I am not ashamed to admit that I quite like a fuss and she always knows when I need extra treats because, as Julia suspects, my human doesn’t feed me enough.

I believe I have now fully infiltrated the organisation and have really cemented my position within the team. My general routine still consists of checking the perimeters in detail on arrival. My human claims I don’t have to ‘sniff everything every time’. She is wrong. It is her responsibility to leave the house earlier if she doesn’t want to be late, because these checks are an essential part of my role which she continues to disregard.

The majority of my day then involves surveying the office, yard, and nearby car park from my window seat. From this vantage point I can make an immediate assessment of everyone who comes through the office door. On the whole, I let them enter now without comment. Most have them have learnt to behave appropriately. But there are exceptions and I will not be told otherwise. Particularly two extremely suspicious looking young men who my human assured me were here for ‘work experience’. I maintain that I was teaching them a harsh but important lesson about professional standards and making sure they stayed focused. I was repeatedly told they were ‘nice lads’ and I do have to concede that they did offer treats – but my distrust remained, and I had to make sure they knew it.

It has been a very busy summer at the museum, with lots of noisy children disturbing my quiet surveillance. My human claims I was only cross about this because they woke me up. Yet again, she is wrong. I am never sleeping. I am portraying a demeanour of relaxation in order to surprise any potential intruder by leaping up and, in her words ‘howling like a banshee’. I find it a most effective way of suppressing them into submission. Apparently we want visitors in the museum and we want the volunteers to keep coming back, and I shouldn’t bark at them. I don’t see that this can be the case and that barking at them merely ‘keeps them on their toes’, a human expression which doesn’t seem to make a lot of sense but one which I am assured fits the situation.

A highlight of the summer has been a particular small human visiting the museum when not at school. The staff have become quite complacent in keeping me entertained and, quite frankly, are often dull. The small human appreciates that throwing my ball and providing extra crumbs keeps me fit and focused and better placed to perform my duties. I have found this arrangement most satisfactory.

I have actually become quite fond of quite a lot of the volunteers, and have successfully manipulated many of them into bringing me special treats, giving me chest rubs and generally spoiling me. Something which I’m told by my human I shouldn’t get used to. I disagree.

I do want to be completely honest with you though, dear reader, because I believe we have reached that point. As fond as I am of this place, and as seriously as I take my duty in defending it, I do sometimes find my role tiresome. Thankfully my human has found a solution. I never know where we are going when we leave the house in the morning, and I’m always excited to get into the museum and perform my checks… but some days we arrive at Tiverton Dog Centre, and this is infinitely more exciting. I have of course quickly asserted my dominance there too, showing everyone who’s boss, from husky to great dane, I show no fear. The staff, all of whom I will admit are really quite lovely, usually tell my human I have been a good boy – but my relaxed demeanour there is, again, a clever ploy to ensure the humans do as I wish.

But then, I have also turned one this week. I am led to believe this is a grand occasion, and my humans and some of the museum volunteers have made quite a big fuss. On initial reflection I didn’t feel any different from the day before – but I have to admit that I do feel somewhat changed. Not all in one day of course, but gradually, in my time here, I believe I have become a little more mature. I no longer bark at absolutely everybody… although this is mainly due to my human feeding me a constant stream of treats whenever anyone new appears in the office, which is apparently called training, but does seem to just be feeding me treats. Something I am not opposed to, though I do glare at her throughout so that she is clear I would prefer to do both the barking and the eating. I no longer have to rush outside every five minutes. I do not need constant entertainment. I am, apparently, a ‘big boy’ now.

This week I was escorted to the dog centre on the anniversary of the day of my birth, for ‘special birthday photos’. An utter outrage, I thought. A total humiliation, to be dressed up in a silly hat, and made to pose like a fool.

But actually I did have quite a lot of fun.

Don’t tell anyone.

Lars
Assistant Head of Security and Junior Staff Member

Lars’s human would like it noted that she does, in fact, feed him enough. He has been informed of this editorial note and remains unconvinced – Editor.