When I joined your start-up, I was looking forward to enjoying the many amenities promised by venture capital: an endless supply of David bars, a ping pong table no one ever touches, a team of rock stars, and the gnawing uncertainty that we might actually be building a weapon.

I was also told that this was a dog-friendly office.

I have to say, that really sweetened the deal. Giving up remote work to spend five days in-office was going to be a tough adjustment, but it was softened knowing that I could have my dogs out, unleashed and uninhibited, just like at home.

I assured you they would keep to themselves, be well-taken care of and neatly groomed, and stay with me at all times, because, let’s be real, why wouldn’t they?

So when HR told me they were receiving complaints about me and my dogs, I was a little confused.

Certainly you have bigger things to worry about, like the fact that our marketing director is allergic to our account executive’s golden retriever, or that our data scientist’s mutt keeps chewing up our stress balls.

But it seems that “dog-friendly” stops with me, and frankly, I take personal offense to that. Also, I was not aware there was a policy for footwear.

When I was told this was a dog-friendly office, I took appropriate measures to find the most office-worthy sandals that were also supportive of my sizable bunions. No chance these dogs would be barking!

How was I supposed to know that the founder has a thing about feet? It’s not my fault he finds my toes freaky.

No, my toes may never grace the cover of a footwear catalog. And no, no one has ever requested photos of these phalanges for personal enjoyment. But that shouldn’t exclude them from office culture. They are already contained enough—I would never let the dogs out on the train, for instance.

Frankly, I find it a little hard to believe that OSHA rules about footwear would apply to a company that “does not” use artificial intelligence to monitor fellow citizens. Whatever we are developing may pose an existential threat to white-collar workers and democracy at large, but it certainly is no danger to our digits.

And I can’t believe this may need to be said, but no, it’s not a sex thing. Although looking at some of the guys on the dev team, I can’t say I believe that’s true about everyone here, am I right? You’ll certainly never find these bad boys anywhere near your crotch, which is more than can be said about Frank’s goldendoodle.

So I stand before you now—head held high, toes out—to defend my case. If Cooper and Max can bound freely across the floor of this open-concept coworking office space, then my dogs should be free to roam between my desk and the Nespresso machine, too.

And if you do happen to want photos, you know where to find me.