Since its founding some seventeen years ago, G&G has been a dog-friendly company. In our original office, staffers’ pups knew the UPS guy by the sound of his steps outside the door, and there was always a spare tennis ball rolling through the hallways. When we outgrew those quarters and moved to a space that could handle the growing staff, the dogs came with us. The editorial team has no shortage of dog lovers, and we’re rarely far from a soft ear to scratch. Not all the dogs are office regulars, but with the prevalence of Zoom calls these days, there’s hardly a pooch that goes unnoticed (and, yes, even an occasional staff cat that likes to crash the virtual meetings). Recently, as Hurricane Debby scooted inland after dropping drenching rains on our Charleston, South Carolina, headquarters, a number of staffers, dogs in tow, met for a photo shoot to accompany this issue’s sporting canine cover package. We had a few dogs with prior commitments (Sam and Abby were visiting Texas, while Huey and Auggie had appointments of their own), but for a few solid hours, a pack of pooches ruled the roost—and their personalities were on full display.
Our tiniest but most spirited member, Ruby, a Jack Russell terrier, let anyone who approached her mom’s office know that they’d better tread lightly, not surprising for a dog who takes delight in attacking the wheels of rolling garbage bins. But she’s a softy at heart. At night Ruby sleeps in the bed and likes to be swaddled in her own blanket, and if you ask nicely with a treat in hand, she’ll walk on her hind legs for you (just make sure that treat is cheese).
On the other end of the size spectrum is Bucket, a gentle giant, who at eight months weighs in at seventy pounds. Bucket is a rescue. His mother was a Labrador retriever mix. His father? Who knows. But the smart money says Great Dane. Our latest addition, Clementine, a gorgeous two-year-old golden retriever rescue, personifies the word chill—unless a helicopter happens to fly overhead, in which case she’ll leap up into the sky in a vain attempt to catch it.
A few editors have two dogs. Linus and Rosebud bring some international flair to the mix. They’re Italian greyhounds separated by one year. True to their breeding, they prance around like loaded springs, ready at a moment’s notice to zip off into the distance in a blur. Felix and Oscar, on the other hand, aren’t about speed. Also rescues, the bonded brothers were adopted at age five from Georgia’s Fayette Humane Society. Born in July, the Shorkies (that’s a Yorkie–shih tzu mix, thank you) are sensitive Cancers. If you hurt their feelings, they’ll sometimes let you know by piddling on the carpet or doorjamb.
Trooper is the resident agility and therapy dog. While you’re not likely to see him competing on the global circuit, he has a number of ribbons to his name and, more important, sixty-one visits and counting to local hospitals and schools, where he’s a champion of furry love. And Minnie, a toy Australian shepherd, isn’t interested in living up to her name. She’s a certified food hound. (Naturally, she hates stairs but is always down for an elevator ride.)
My own dog, Story, a Lab who loves spending time in a duck blind or a dove field, is of course perfect. Because like all dog owners, I’m totally biased.
And about those cats on staff (Oyster, Frederick, and Fern). We love them, too. They just aren’t all that interested in us.
