“He escaped,” Lennon said, slightly breathless. “Twice. He’s very resourceful.”
“And very loud,” Casey added from where he stood a few feet back, clearly having learned to stay out of range.
Iggy let out a sharp bark of pure joy as he jumped at Finn and then bounded toward me.
“Stand down, buddy,” Finn said, dropping into that voice that expected immediate obedience.
Iggy sat, his intense gaze locked on Finn, awaiting orders.
Then he was up again, investigating my office.
“Thought you said that works,” I observed.
“Usually works,” Finn corrected. “He’s still learnin’ the difference between ‘stand down’ and ‘stand down until something more interesting happens.’”
Iggy returned to me, tail still waving wildly, but waiting patiently. At least he’d remembered not to jump on me this time.
“Yes, hello, my tiny terrorist,” I crouched down, letting him sniff my face thoroughly. His tongue caught my cheek, warm and slightly rough, and I couldn’t help laughing. “We weren’t gone that long.”
“Felt like forever to him,” Finn smiled. “Kid’s got attachment issues.”
“People over paperwork,” Lennon beamed as I stood and we moved out into the break area. “I respect that.”
Tabitha appeared from her office, taking in the scene. “So. Good news?”
“Best news,” Finn grinned. “Master’s program. Starting in August.”
“That’s wonderful!” Tabitha clapped her hands together. “Congratulations, Finn. Really.”
“Thanks.” He glanced down at Iggy, who had decided I was an excellent target for herding and was attempting to move me toward the fridge where he knew there were tasty things he could eat. “Assuming Iggy here doesn’t eat my homework.”
“He wouldn’t,” I brushed rust-colored fur off my skirt. “He’d herd your homework into a neat pile and then guard it aggressively.”
Casey pulled a bag of baby carrots out of the fridge. “Because clearly someone needs positive reinforcement for walking three miles with a puppy in May.”
“The puppy or me?” Finn asked, taking the bag.
“Yes.”
Iggy’s ears perked up at the sound of the bag crinkling, his entire focus shifting from herding me to the much more important mission of acquiring treats. He sat without being asked, tail sweeping the floor behind him as he locked on the bag with laser focus.
“Look at that,” Lennon marveled. “Perfect sit. Good boy, Iggy!”
“He’s very food-motivated,” Finn fished out a carrot and snapped it in half with one hand. “Icarus. Wait.”
Iggy waited, trembling with the effort of not lunging forward, his gaze never leaving the treat in Finn’s hand.
“At ease.”
The treat disappeared in approximately half a second, followed by Iggy’s immediate return to scanning for additional opportunities.
Gretchen appeared, stopping short when she saw the scene. “Is that the famous Iggy?”
“I think you mean infamous,” I watched our chaos gremlin discover that Gretchen was new and interesting and definitely needed to be investigated thoroughly.
“He’s so small!”
“He’s still growing,” Finn distracted Iggy with another carrotpiece. “Give him six months.”
