Doggie Heaven Hotel

A Cup of Coffee and a Cool Breeze

Dog sitting is a new adventure every day. 

I have nine dogs today—for one day—tomorrow three go home.

This morning my family left early to support my oldest son during the first regatta of his rowing season. I found myself standing in the middle of my driveway with my coffee, watching the dogs run around.

It was early and I was still in my baggy flannel PJ bottoms. I don’t wear undies at night for comfort reasons. This may seem like too much information but I am trying to create a scenario. 

So there I was, with my steaming cup of coffee, in my baggie PJs, surveying the doggies cavorting about my yard, when one of these adoring, loving creatures leapt up against my leg to show her affection.

One of her front claws got stuck in my PJ bottoms—and when she came down so did my PJ bottoms. 

So there I stood, with my steaming cup of coffee, and nothing on from the waist down in my front yard. I remember being glad that the neighbors across the street were on a ski vacation.

Unfortunately all my other neighbors were home. Now I’m not sure if any of them saw me in all my embarrassment, and I’m not about to knock on their doors and ask, “Hey, did you happen to see me this morning standing in my driveway with no pants on?”

And really, isn’t it just better to be ignorant about some things? 

BTW, I wouldn’t want to embarrass the owners of said dog. So I’m not going to name names. I mean what kind of mean dog-sitter would do that? 

I’m just going to post this picture.

Mean People Suck

The Haute Enchilada
I blame the economy for the following events:

If the economy hadn’t gone south, then I wouldn’t have started my dog-sitting business. If I hadn’t started my business, then I wouldn’t have started my dog blog. If I hadn’t started my dog blog then I wouldn’t have started this section on Doggone Vacations.

When I named this section, I didn’t realize the definition of doggone. Used to describe feelings of annoyance, surprise, or pleasure.

I think that is fairly apropos for traveling with dogs.

Even though I have been spending a lot of time lately researching places to go with dogs by actually going places with dogs, I try not to be obnoxious about it. Or at least I thought I wasn’t being obnoxious.

We were in Moss Landing geocaching and exploring.

It was getting close to dinnertime and I didn’t feel like cooking.
For heaven sakes I wasn’t staying in a five star resort, I might as well get a little reward and I didn’t feel bad about spending money on dinner since we were saving so much on accommodations.

We walked by this restaurant, Phil’s Fish Market & Eatery.

Phil’s claim to fame was that he once appeared on Bobby Flay’s TV “Throw Down.” It was supposed to be a fairly decent restaurant and I had already eaten at the Haute Enchilada (or that would have been my first choice) besides we weren’t standing in front of the Haute Enchilada.

I asked my husband to see if we could bring our dog to dinner. My husband, (who loves to talk to people he doesn’t know) walked right up to the hostess while I hung back with my dog and asked her if we could indeed bring Moondoggie.

He returned to tell me that the hostess said yes, as long as we ate on the covered patio and not inside the restaurant.

I asked if we should make reservations. He said, "Naaaaaaa, this place is huge.” There was a lady listening in on our conversation. She sat on a bench in front of Phil’s, while she held her yapping Papillion’s mouth closed. She said that of course they would let our dog on the patio and of course we wouldn’t need a reservation.
I found out later that they don’t take reservations anyway.

We went back to the RV. I fed Moondoggie and freshened up a little, which meant putting on my least dirty pair of jeans, least dirty pair of shoes, and least dirty jacket.

When we arrived back at Phil’s, it was packed and there was a band playing. My husband and two kids disappeared into the crowd. I stood there with my dog and a foreboding feeling.

I couldn’t see a single empty table. I did see however, two tables with dogs tucked under them while their masters ate dinner. That gave me some sort of comfort.

My husband was now running toward me with an excited look on his face. “I found a table in the very back behind the band.” He turned and moved quickly in the other direction toward the band.
I was still standing at the front of the restaurant with the sinking feeling that I now was going to have to follow my husband and walk with my dog down the center of the aisle between many, many family style tables filled with patrons who were almost certainly not all dog lovers.

I don’t even know why I did it. If I’d had my wits about me, I would have walked out the entrance and around the patio to the back door and snuck into the table behind the band but as it turned out it didn’t matter.