Belle Taylor: Why we SHOULDN’T bring pets into the office

“I want a pet,” my six-year old informs me solemnly. “How about a rock?” I suggest. He rolls his eyes. “A fish?” I try. “Fish die too soon,” he mutters, speaking from experience (RIP Goldie).

“Oh look at that, dinner is ready,” I say, changing the topic.

Our pet-free household is in the minority. Australia is one of the highest pet-owning nations in the world with 69 per cent of households having an animal friend, mainly a dog or a cat. This country has 6.33 million dogs and apparently the average Australian household has 1.6 cats. I don’t know too many people with cats, which makes me suspect most people do not have cats and some people have what may be considered way too many cats.

I’m not a monster. I get why a kid would want a pet. The problem is, I am really allergic to dogs and cats and there are already too many things in my house I’m trying to avoid (that pile of junk in the garage, the weeding in the garden, the existential dread lurking in the laundry pile). I can’t add a living thing to that list.

I love the idea of dogs . . . just not the furry reality. When they bound up to me at the park I let them sniff around me while awkwardly walking away like a Raygun dance move. If I touch a dog and don’t immediately run to wash my hands like it’s April 2020, I’m done for. My face swells up, my eyes go red and I break out in hives. I am so allergic to dogs I get a Pavlov’s Dog reaction even thinking about canines. I feel itchy just writing this.

Which is why I read with some trepidation this week about the push to make more workforces pet-friendly spaces.

A group called the Companion Animal Network, whose online “About us” page is so vague I am fairly sure it’s just a bunch of cats with an iPad, is pushing for more workplaces to become pet friendly.

“Research shows that having pets in the workplace improves productivity and collaboration, and alleviates stress,” they write on their webpage (sounds like something a cat would say). “Employee satisfaction and morale are top-of-mind for most HR leaders, and pet-inclusive policies can help.”

I can see 69 per cent of you beaming at this idea, but please tell me the smaller, but still significant 31 per cent of you start scratching at the mere thought.

This pet-in-the office chat has amped up in recent years as employers attempt to lure workers back into the office post-pandemic.

In the US, a survey from financial services firm Empower found 31 per cent of gen Zs and 34 per cent of millennials would take a pay cut if they had more flexibility to spend with their furry friends. And 41 per cent of US workers said they would be more likely to return to the office if they could bring a pet.

If you start to deep dive into the “should pets come to the office” debate, you will soon discover it’s not much of a debate at all. Everyone is very much in favour. So I know what you’re thinking: “Belle, we don’t care that your face blows up like a terrifying clown balloon. We all like it — you can go live in a sad, pet-less bubble on your lonesome.”

Which is all very well. But has anyone asked . . . the pets? Rover doesn’t want to be in the office. This is an animal whose ancestors stalked great plains, ran in packs. Its descendants don’t want to sit through back-to-back sales meetings. Fido doesn’t want to problem solve that spreadsheet. Kitty may seem like she’s circling back, but really she’s just chasing her own tail. Admittedly, Mrs Mittens would really enjoy writing “as per my last email . . .”

I’m not totally against pets in the office. I just think we need to choose them wisely. And maybe just bring in the greatest pet of all, a pet that would really enjoy the office, a little friend everyone can enjoy — the stoic, loyal companion: a pet rock.