I thought that no smell on earth could be more vile than the revolting stench of pig manure. I was wrong.
After a sleepless night for all of us at Larry’s we had made it to Cook’s Corner in Brunswick.
As we were driving along Bath Road, Mum suddenly threw up her hands and squealed: “STOP! There’s a Days Inn!”
As if mesmerized by the promise of stench-free sleep, Dad immediately pulled a sharp turn into the parking lot. This was going to be heaven.
Er… what was to become of me?
Despite Mum and Dad’s cheery hello there was a cool reception at the desk. Cool became cold when they mentioned me.
“Dogs by permission and then only in a smoking room,” intoned the clerk. Mum and Dad looked at each other. And then at me. What to do? Options:
- put me back in Pauline’s horror kennel
- make me sleep in the car
- take the smokers’ room
There was no need to vote on it since the very memory of Pauline made my paws start to shake and my teeth chatter. The car was out too since someone could nab someone as gorgeous as me. (Believe it or not, there’s a waiting list for my puppies. I’ve been waiting too. Where is the bitch of my dreams? Where is she?)
We settled for option three. After paying a fee for my inclusion in the smokers’ room we climbed a set of narrow stairs and proceeded to our room.
GASP!
The stench pushed the three of us back into the hallway. This can’t be. Dad went back to reception to negotiate. Finally the clerk was persuaded to put me down as a cat, and as such, snuck us into a non-smokers’ room.
We went out for lunch.
Back inside we were approached by another clerk who noted right away that I was most definitely not a cat. So back to the foul-smelling room for us.
Windows were opened and an ionization machine was provided for our use. But that thing had a nasty smell of its own. As did the AC system. Dad said it smelled as if some human had pissed into it. Along with this also came the noxious fumes from the parking lot right under our window.
But at least there were a few redeeming features: a king-sized bed, wireless Internet, a bar fridge, a microwave and a big TV with cable.
Check out the photo of Mum and me on the bed. Mum is drinking again.
“Life’s so short,” she mutters when Dad tells her to cut back.
“Well if you ever take up smoking, it’ll be a lot shorter,” Dad retorts.
And he means it.
