Monday, 8:04 AM – The Hangover Walk
Carlton looked like a corpse in khakis. "I smell like wet fur and sadness."
"You smell like money," Travis said, clipping Macaroni's leash (shoelace 2.0) onto his collar.
"Did we get sued yet?"
"Not before coffee," Travis said, holding up a mug that said: "Bark Now, Cry Later."
Linda's three corgis were now regulars. In just a week, the boys had somehow wrangled a total of five more clients, including:
An elderly woman who insisted her Shih Tzu only respond to French.
A tech bro whose greyhound was on a keto diet.
And Mr. Glasser, a bald man with two Pomeranians named after Elon Musk's exes.
Pawffice Professionals was, against all logic, thriving.
Travis had even made business cards.
They were printed on old cereal boxes.
But hey—branding.
"Okay," Travis said, pacing the living room in front of a whiteboard he stole from a dentist's office.
"We have seven dogs. Two humans. One of us is allergic to fur. The other one thinks Scooby-Doo is a real breed. We're doing great."
Carlton raised a hand. "Why is there a pie chart labeled 'Dog Vibes'?"
"Data. Very scientific."
"Why is mine labeled 'Chaos Goblin'?"
"I don't control the analytics."
Carlton sighed. "What's the point here?"
Travis tapped the board. "We expand. Offer a premium service. Dog yoga. Canine aromatherapy. Organic treats. Rich people eat that stuff up. Why not their pets?"
Carlton blinked. "You want to start a dog spa?"
"No," Travis said, grinning. "A dog wellness retreat. It's totally different. Spa sounds like work. Retreat sounds expensive."
Carlton stared. "Do we know how to do that?"
"No. But we know how to make a website."
"We do?"
Travis held up his phone. "Wix, baby."
---
Their Craigslist ad now read:
> PAWFFICE PROFESSIONALS PRESENTS:
Tranquil Tails: A Wellness Retreat for the Refined Pup
Featuring:
• Dog Yoga ("Doga")
• Calming Cucumber Eye Treatments
• Guided Squirrel Visualization
• Organic Treat Tastings (human-safe too!)
They set the price at $200/day per dog.
"I'm not paying two hundred bucks for fake yoga," Carlton said.
"You're not the target audience," Travis replied. "People with too much money and anxious golden retrievers are."
They rented the community garden pavilion for $25. Stole a yoga mat from a gym dumpster. Bought ten cucumbers. And made "relaxing spa music" by slowing down a Snoop Dogg album to 0.25x speed.
First customer? Mr. Glasser and the Pomeranians.
"This better be legit," he said, adjusting his Bluetooth headset. "They've been emotionally tense since the Tesla dropped in value."
"We specialize in crypto-induced pet anxiety," Travis said confidently.
---
Disaster, Predictably
It started well. Dogs lying on yoga mats. Carlton lighting incense he bought from a gas station. Travis gently rubbing cucumbers on dog faces.
Then it rained.
Suddenly, twelve wet dogs were running in circles, trampling lavender plants, knocking over the cucumber station, and barking at a group of tai chi seniors across the lawn.
One dog peed on the speaker. It started playing distorted Snoop lyrics backwards.
Mr. Glasser screamed, "IS THIS A RITUAL?!"
Linda arrived mid-chaos, holding an umbrella and a tiny dog-sized robe. "Is Butterscotch meditating or having a seizure?"
Travis tried to smile. "Both? It's very avant-garde."
---
Back at the apartment, Travis typed furiously on their business website.
Carlton walked in holding a bag of soggy dog treats.
"We're being roasted in a Facebook moms' group," he said. "Someone said our retreat gave her pug PTSD."
Travis nodded. "Perfect."
"Perfect?"
"We pivot," Travis said. "New angle. Extreme canine therapy. It's not chaos—it's exposure healing. Very cutting-edge."
Carlton stared. "You're turning our failure into a luxury trauma service."
"Yes. And we charge extra."
---
Their website now proudly displayed:
> EXTREME DOG RETREATS
Release Your Pet's Inner Wolf
"Some dogs need walks. Others need to face the storm."
They raised the price to $300.
By Friday, they had three new bookings.
Travis leaned back on the couch, sipping cucumber water. "Carlton, we're not dog walkers anymore. We're pet visionaries."
Carlton picked a piece of shredded leash out of his hair. "You know this ends with either a lawsuit or an Animal Planet deal, right?"
Travis grinned. "Either way… we win."