The anxiety level had been rising for weeks. Thinking you might be the target of a government investigation will often increase the stress you feel.
I texted Terri and asked her if she had a moment. A minute later she stepped into the home office, chipper. And why not, it was the weekend. Good enough reason to be chipper and upbeat, unless of course you think you might be the target of a government investigation.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
I took a deep breath and started.
“I’m worried,” I said.
“And this is news?” she asked.
Maybe it would be better if I started at the beginning. It always struck me as the logical place to start, and I was never quite sure why more people didn’t think to begin there.
“Remember back at the beginning of the pandemic…“
“No,” she said, getting the glazed look in her eyes that we all seem to get nowadays at the mere mention of the word.
“Back when the government was giving out money to small businesses?” I asked.
“Oh yes, of course, and the big guys like Shake Shack stuck their grubby hands in and grabbed a bunch before being shamed into returning it,” Terri said.
“Yes, that was one aspect of it. Another was that other undeserving people also took advantage of the program. People setting up fake companies, lying and cheating to get money,” I said.
Terri’s face tightened a bit and a little worry crept in. She was putting all the little pieces and vague clues together, and was not thrilled with where they were leading.
“You didn’t apply for…I mean, try to get some of this money, did you?” she asked.
“No,” I said.
She exhaled, her shoulders fell. She was relieved, until I spoke.
“I didn’t, Butch did,” I said.
“Our dog?” she asked, shocked.
I nodded and said, “I mean, he had help.”
On cue, there was the sound of little paws shuffling along on the wood floors and Butch walked into the office. He came around the side of the desk, glanced up at me, turned as if I weren’t worth the effort and went and sat at Terri’s side.
“You applied for a PPP loan for Butch, our dog?” Terri asked.
Butch perked up at the mention of his name. Maybe he thought he was in for a sudden windfall.
“Not specifically for Butch, but for his company,” I said.
“Oh, our dog’s company. Yes, that makes more sense,” she said.
Terri was standing at the side of the desk and I turned my laptop so she could see it. “Here, take a look.”
She stepped around the desk, stared at the screen and read for a bit, then looked at me.
“Barking Dog Construction, LLC?” she asked. “Really?”
“Well, he is a dog, and he barks. Sometimes a lot. So I felt that was accurate.”
She scanned the application for the seemingly free money and shook her head. She stepped back, processed it all with the look of someone hoping they missed something.
“And so let me see if I have it right. You set up a shell company for our dog to get a government loan?”
“Well, no. I mean, yes. But it was the early days of the pandemic. Everything was a blur.”
“But why on earth…”
“Wilson and I were reading stories of how easy it was to get a loan. It was like the honor system. Checking the CAPTCHA I’m not a robot box seemed more difficult than applying for one of these. So I bet Wilson that a dog could get one. He said no way.”
“Unfortunately you won.”
I explained how awhile back I received the cheery email informing me, or rather Butch, since he was listed as the president of Barking Dog Construction, that he had been approved for a government loan. It said just a few additional questions were needed before the money would arrive. It was all so shockingly easy.
Terri was back scanning the application.
“Interesting how you made Butch a builder,” she said.
“Creative, right?”
“I was thinking stupid, actually.”
“I’ll go along with that as well,” I said, nodding. “Although he does do a little building. I mean kind of. You know, after he does his business, he digs at the dirt. That’s excavation, right?”
Butch was gnawing on his hind leg at the moment, oblivious to the discussion about his vocation.
Terri meanwhile was reading through the finer points of the application for the $133,000 loan from the Small Business Administration for Barking Dog Construction.
“And look at this, you even made it real official-like with an address,” she said.
“Seventy-three Pine Crest Place,” I said. “The empty lot where Butch does his business, or builds, depending on your point of view.”
She laughed a little and it was good to hear. A little levity.
“Oh, and let’s see, the answer to this question probably didn’t raise any red flags,” she said. “Number of employees. Lots.”
“Barking Dog was in a growth phase, you know? Some workers were transitioning to full-time roles,” I said. “It was hard to get a handle on just many people were employees at the time.”
Terri stepped back and Butch stopped his gnawing. He had all the traits of a fine small business leader. Knowing when it’s okay to chew your limb, and when it’s time to buckle down and focus. I was proud of him.
“So, what now?” Terri asked.
I shrugged. “I never responded to request for additional information. Maybe I’m was scot-free. Maybe not.”
She looked at Butch and said, “And what do you think?”
Butch sprang to his feet, tail wagging. Good things were ahead for him this morning, he just knew it.
“Let’s go,” she said to Butch. “No sense being close when the heat closes in on him.”
“Thanks,” I said as they left.
“Don’t worry,” Terri said, “we’ll visit. I mean, if we’re not busy.”