A pet friendly story

An eight day lag between leaving the condo and moving into my new digs has given me an opportunity to squeeze in a mini holiday prior to my lifestyle change.

Finding the right accommodation for said mini holiday in the midst of a pandemic posed a bit of a problem as did accommodating my four-legged furry roommate. Some dogs are easy traveling companions, they fit into carrying cases are well mannered and aren’t on the prowl for trouble every waking minute – in short, they aren’t Chester.

Chester is large and happy – he takes up a lot of room. He is reluctantly welcome at each of my children’s homes but I hesitate to take any of them up on their hospitality – I’m the person who taught them their manners and can easily read the subtle signs of reluctance disguised in their generosity. We are warily welcome at best and the subject of prayers that we’ve made other arrangements as a rule. They love Chester – from a distance.

I googled and booked pet friendly accommodations at a local property – the pictures on their website were enticing, the description of the surroundings read fairytale perfect – nestled on a beautiful treed lot bordering walking trails – it was touted as idyllic yet conveniently located close to amenities. I had visions of eight days of quiet seclusion and a well needed break from the packing and confusion of late while not wearing out our welcome with any of the kids.

After the movers hauled my possessions away to eight days in storage I loaded the car with the paraphernalia Chester and I were going to need for our eight day retreat. I stuffed his dog bed and blanket, kibble and dishes into the backseat. I packed myself a selection of outerwear to be prepared for all the walking we were going to do through the wooded trails – weather on the west coast in February is a crapshoot. I gathered writing supplies and a file of works in progress that I planned to make some progress on during the quiet afternoons we would spend tucked in our idyllic setting. And we set off.

I drove by our accommodation twice before I realized there was a building situated behind the large ‘Development Proposal’ sign I’d been passing. The house was located at the end of a muddy driveway, dimly lit in the fading afternoon sun. It was surrounded by large garbage and recycling bins and piles of wood. It was nestled, that part of the ad was true, smack in the middle of a hedge of skeletal blackberry bushes. Old tires leaned against a moss covered dog house in the side yard and an assortment of automotive parts littered the grass.

I was hesitant to get out of the car lest the phantom occupant of the dog house rush out to greet me. There were no signs of life beyond the dirty windows, no check-in instructions taped to the door. I texted the number on my booking confirmation and waited. And waited. The sun began to set, long shadows stretched into the gloom of the yard.

My imagination is vivid even on a sunny day…

We are currently waiting for a refund from the sketchy pet friendly accommodation and safely tucked into the quaint hotel across the street from our well traveled promenade. We are breathing a sigh of relief after narrowly escaping the possibility of certain doom.

I’m not sure there’s a lesson in this near-death experience or if it’s even a cautionary tale – I’m inclined to think it’s just another adventure Chester and I have have taken together – another chapter in our pet friendly story.