My office is generally quite casual. We occasionally have visitors that warrant dressing up a little, but that generally means that the men wear clean boots and freshly starched jeans, and the women switch out their flip-flops for something less beachy for the day.
I have two co-workers that bring their dogs to work. Both are small yippy Shorkie-somethings, one being the offspring of the other. In fact, she was born here at the office, in what was a memorable experience, not just for being present at the birthing of a litter of pups, but for watching the men run for the door shouting ridiculous excuses over their shoulders.
I am a big-dog kind of a girl, always have been. I still would not like to have a small dog in my home, but I have grown fond of having the little ankle biters around the office. Each morning, when she arrives, she makes the rounds, stopping off at the offices that have dog treats stashed in their desk drawers. She barks only at Hispanic men, new UPS drivers, and children.
Best of all, there is a tangible physical benefit to having a dog in the office. I can feel my blood pressure drop, as she curls up in my lap on a stressful day. People find it hard to be ugly to you when you are holding a ball of fluff.