"NO! LEAVE IT!" Internally, I am thinking, "Thank God all the geegaws didn't break! And Thank God she loves Bingo!" I give him a swift correction. Try to make him sit and also try to right a stack of falling file folders which results in more paper chaos than Bingo originally created. Meanwhile Bingo has crept nearer the spider plant off to the right of the desk and is angling his head to the tempting hanging leaf. The glint off his shiny nose reflects in my eye causing me to turn and avert a catastrophe (read: tiny plant stand and delicate plant with LIGHT BEIGE SUEDE GUEST CHAIR, yeah, wouldn't that look good with a big dirt paw print on it!?). I can feel my blood pressure creep up to the mild heart attack zone.
She asks me what I wanted. I look at her strangely. I'm not sure any more. I tell her I'll come back on Friday. And on Friday we will be prepared to train!
FRIDAY
We arrive at the headmaster's administrative assistant's desk. I explain to Bingo that this is a desk and it isn't for jumping up onto. See my outstretched hand that he is patiently waiting for me to move so he can jump and grab that fuzzy head? Well, I yanked him a correction right as he started his jump. HA! No files moved. No geegaws were in danger. Bingo was a little startled. 
Uh. What just happened? This is where I patiently explain the concept of desk as equal to person: nonjumpupable. Do I detect a spark?
Not one attempt at the assistant headmaster's assistant's desk (try saying that out loud twice!). In fact, he seemed ready to leave. Bored with desks. The thrill was gone.
At the Dean of Student's desk he was so uninterested that he actually.....
just curled up and avoided the desk altogether. Upshot: Mission Accomplished!
Although Fred thinks I actually bored him out of wanting to jump on desks, I say, I'll take it whatever way it comes. No jumping, good for you Bingo!
Good job, Cheryl.
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