“Different personalities require different party strategies,” Alyssa explained, pulling out color-coded Post-it notes. “Marketing types need disco. Accounting needs structured fun. IT needs…well, basically a LAN party with festive hats.”
Since the beginning of the partnership with Crawford’s, Alyssa had gotten to know the various departments within the company pretty well. She’d learned that Tom from graphic design was meticulous and creative, that Polly in accounting had a dry sense of humour that could cut glass, and that the marketing team thrived on energy and spectacle. Each department had its own rhythm, its own culture, its own needs. Understanding that was half the battle.
Bug, who had been supervising from his designated conference room chair, gave a soft “woof” of apparent agreement.
“Did the dog just validate your organisational strategy?” Evelyn asked.
“Bug is an excellent consultant,” Alyssa said seriously. “His instincts are legendary at Four Paws.”
The next two hours were a masterclass in corporate event engineering. Alyssa mapped out theoretical seating arrangements depending on the venue they would finally settleon, potential dietary requirements, and probable drama zones with the precision of a military strategist.
The venue search had become their biggest challenge. With Christmas less than two weeks away, most spaces were already booked solid. Every call Alyssa made was met with the same response: “Sorry, we’re fully committed through the new year.” They’d narrowed it down to a handful of possibilities, but nothing felt quite right yet. Still, Alyssa refused to let logistics derail the planning. They could adapt the seating, the flow, the entire layout once they had a space locked down.
“You’ve colour-coded potential romantic tension,” Evelyn observed with an arched brow, pointing at a section marked in bright yellow.
“Workplace dynamics are complex,” Alyssa replied. “Much like dog pack hierarchies.”
Bug thumped his tail in agreement.
By midday, they’d transformed Evelyn’s pristine conference room into a war room. Sticky notes covered every surface, each colour representing a different department, potential challenge, or critical consideration.
“This feels like a tactical operation,” Evelyn said, looking slightly overwhelmed.
“Welcome to event management,” Alyssa grinned. “It’s basically herding cats. Or in our case, dogs.”
The catering section was particularly complex. Alyssa had created an intricate matrix that considered dietary restrictions, potential allergies, and what she called “hangry prevention strategies.”
“You’ve got a column here that says ‘Potential Meltdown Risk, ’” Evelyn noted, pointing to a bright red section.
“Some people get very serious about their Christmas pudding,” Alyssa explained. “It’s like watching dogs protect their favourite chew toy.”
Bug lifted his head and gave a pointed look that suggested he took toy protection very seriously.
“How did you become so good at this?” Evelyn asked, genuinely curious.
Alyssa shrugged. “Running a sanctuary means being part event planner, part therapist, part detective. You learn to anticipate problems before they happen.”
They broke for lunch—pizza again, because apparently it had become their planning fuel. Bug sprawled across the floor between them, his head resting on Alyssa’s foot, occasionally lifting his eyes toward the pizza box with shameless hope.
“He’s manipulating me for pizza,” Evelyn said, rolling her eyes, but she was smiling.
“Of course he is,” Alyssa agreed, “but he’s very charming about it.”
The afternoon brought more detailed planning. “What’s this section?” Evelyn pointed to a detailed flowchart.
“Potential drama mitigation,” Alyssa explained. “Like how we prepare dogs for new environments. Slow introduction, positive reinforcement, clear boundaries.”
Evelyn snorted, which made Alyssa feel a hundred feet tall. She loved making Evelyn laugh.
By late afternoon, they’d developed a plan that was part corporate strategy, part psychological intervention, and part festive celebration.
“I can’t believe we’ve managed this,” Evelyn said, looking at the meticulously organised documents.
“Teamwork,” Alyssa said, offering a high-five. Bug immediately shoved his head between their hands, demanding inclusion.
“And canine supervision,” Evelyn added, scratching Bug behind the ears.
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the conference room, Alyssa felt something shift. This wasn’t just about organising an event anymore. This was about helping Evelyn rediscover something she’d lost: the joy of bringing people together.
