Elaine Ambrose

Bestselling Author, Ventriloquist, & Humorist

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Go, Dogs Go, to a Resort Hotel!

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My children loved the book Go, Dog. Go! by P.D. Eastman with its colorful story about big dogs and little dogs, red, green, and blue dogs, dogs going up and dogs going fast. I was reminded of the popular children’s book this week as my husband and I enjoyed a rare opportunity to stay at a luxury resort that had gone to the dogs.

In the lobby, we couldn’t avoid yapping dogs on leashes, whiny dogs in fancy leather cases, shivering toy dogs that resembled skinned rats, dogs trying to smell and pick up a partner for a one-afternoon stand, and even a massive Great Dane that made me want to holler, “Go, Dog. Go – Outside!”

I saw dogs in fancy carriages of a better quality than I used for my own babies. Pampered pooches were tucked into designer bags in the elevators and toted around the grounds by their servant owners as if they were exalted possessions to be adored. Sorry, but I don’t want to smile at, pet, or coo over a pet, even if it has a sparkly bow, matching scarf, and brings its own therapist.

Doggie carriage with two royal pooches.
I grumbled to the receptionist that I didn’t pay a month’s mortgage for a room with a bed that may have been used by an indulged hairball that was treated better than most humans and didn’t even know how to tip. She smiled. I immediately assumed she slept with a menagerie of motley pets.

I don’t want to offend dog and cat lovers, but some of us belong to happy group of people who don’t have indoor pets for a variety of reasons. I’m highly allergic to cats, and I’m uncomfortable around dogs, due to my daily paper route at age 11 when several dogs chased, snarled, and tried to bite me every day as I peddled my bike as fast as I could. Also, I prefer to travel light without needing a pooper scooper.

Airports have become public zoos, catering to people carrying an assortment of creatures, birds, and dubious animals of unknown origin. Traveling is stressful enough without enduring a dog peeking under my stall in the airport restroom. I’d rather not sit in the waiting area battling with the smells and sounds of unhappy animals locked into portable cages. Yesterday in the airport, we watched a woman in the waiting area chew several bites of a hamburger, spit it into her hand, and feed the mess to her large dog. In what civilized society is this normal?

Caveat: I respect those who need indoor animals for comfort and companionship. And, I’m a firm supporter of service dogs and police canine units. These animals earn their keep and provide an important duty.

Ten Luxury Hotels that Pamper Pets

I may be a lone voice barking up the wrong tree in the wilderness because more people are taking their pets into luxury hotels. An article in Condé Nash Traveler published a frisky article titled: “ Pet-Friendly Hotels: The Ten Best Luxury Stays in the U.S.” This list will be saved for reference of where not to stay, ever.

One such hotel is the Park Hyatt Chicago, Chicago, IL. Dogs 50 pounds and under have free reign throughout the rooms, lobby, restaurant, garden, and library of the hotel. Gag me with a caviar dog biscuit. It’s only a matter of time before someone brings a therapy pony into the resort elevator.

In The St. Regis Aspen Resort, Aspen, CO, dogs receive a daily turn-down surprise and can snooze in comfort on their very own St. Regis dog beds for an additional $25 per day. I wish I got a turn-down surprise.

Not to be limited to man’s best friend, the Cypress Inn, Carmel-by-the-Sea, CA, co-owned by actress and animal-rights champion Doris Day, is pet friendly, welcoming all domesticated creatures from iguanas to pot-bellied pigs ($30 fee). Their promotional literature claims: “Hang with your four-legged bestie on the patio, in the lounge or in front of the library’s crackling fireplace, and make new friends during the daily “yappy hour” from 4-6 p.m.” Nothing makes me feel finer than to sleep in a bed that recently was used for the night of the iguana.

The next time I make a reservation for a room at a luxury resort or any hotel, I’ll ask for a non-pet room. In my opinion, that’s just as logical as asking for a non-smoking room. The thought of crawling into a bed with a mattress that could be crawling with residue and fleas from a dog or offensive odor of a pot-bellied pig makes me want to stay home in my pet-free house and watch travel documentaries.


For more of my pet-free rants, here’s the article that was featured on HuffPo Live from New York. It’s titled “My Fish Won’t Hump Your Leg.”

 

 

 

 

My Fish Won’t Hump Your Leg

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We arrived at our host’s lovely home and exchanged pleasantries as I offered my baked won-ton appetizers. Then the dog attacked. The pony-sized labradoodle bounded into the room and feverishly started to hump my leg with the passion of a sailor on shore leave.

“Why is it masturbating on my white pants?” I asked, trying to remain calm.

“He’s just so friendly,” my laughing hostess proclaimed.

She retrieved the dog and proceeded to nuzzle its face. That’s when I knew it would be a long evening. I walked briskly toward the wine bar, wary of sudden attacks from the horny hound. Once again, Cabernet would get me through the ordeal.

I belong to that rare and happy group of people who don’t have indoor pets. Every day my friends on social media post photos and videos of cats and dogs, and I quickly scroll past these visions because I know that the dog licked its genitals before it licked that sweet baby’s face. I’m particularly bothered by the sight of dogs sleeping with babies, pets in human beds, and cats in clothes. At the risk of being pelted with stale dog biscuits and bitten by animal rights activists, I politely request that pet lovers accept the fact that some of us prefer not to live with hairballs, poop behind the couch, and animal hair in our food.

I’m amused and slightly irritated when people prance about with carriers that hold their precious tiny dogs. Why do they expect me to gush over an animal in a purse? If that little ball of fur could talk, it would say, “Get me out of here so I can go sniff that dog’s butt!”

I grew up on a farm surrounded by fields and pens full of cattle, horses, pigs, a few cats and a dog. None of these animals lived inside our house. The dog provided security by barking at dangerous squirrels and by herding cattle. The cats worked daily as mousers in the barn. Not one of them wore a sweater vest or needed a therapist. We all knew our roles down on the farm, and life was grand.

Pet-less people never have dead mice delivered to their doorstep by a warrior cat or hear the blood-curdling scream of cats in heat. They don’t need to worry about getting a kennel when they travel, and they save money by not buying pet food or dealing with expensive veterinarian bills. Americans spend more than $56 billion annually on pets. We could fix some roads, supply new books to the schools, and build animal sanctuaries with that money.

Caveat: I respect those who need indoor animals for comfort and companionship. And, I’m a firm supporter of service dogs and police canine units. These animals earn their keep and provide an important duty.

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I have the perfect pets: fish. My outside pond is full of goldfish and koi. They are beautiful, don’t demand anything, and don’t chew my furniture. Best of all, in the winter they hibernate in the rocks and don’t need anything. I love my fish.

All I ask is for tolerance and acceptance for those of us who don’t think your dog/cat is cute. We love photos of your kids and grandkids, but the puppy in the crib is too much. Unless the child has been raised and suckled by wolves in the forest, the baby doesn’t need to sleep with an animal.

I intend to enjoy my patio and watch my goldfish and koi swim around. You are welcome to visit – without any pets – sip a glass of wine, and offer a toast to my fish. I promise they won’t hump your leg.

 

(Published on The Huffington Post Aug. 28, 2015)

Midlife Cabernet: I Don’t Want to Pet Your Dog

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I have a profound fear of dogs because they always chased and bit me as I frantically rode my bike delivering the daily newspaper when I was 12 years old. Yesterday I parked next to a car and suddenly two huge dogs in the next car shoved their shaggy heads out of the open window and ferociously barked at me, their ragged teeth just inches from my face. I want the owner to pay for my dry cleaning bill.

At the risk of receiving hate mail from those who love, eat, and sleep with their pets, I’d like to meekly suggest that some of us aren’t enamored with them. I don’t fuss over pampered puppies packed into personalized purses. I won’t stop to gush over the yipping, half-crazed, sweater-wearing bundles of barking hairballs. And, I refuse to be pressured to sit next to an animal caged in an airline carrier. No offense, but I don’t think it’s cute.

According to the American Pet Products Association, Americans spend more than $60 billion annually on their pets. Obviously, millions of people love their furry critters and they have a right to do that. But it’s also okay for those of us who prefer to take a walk without needing to carry a bag full of steaming poop.

A few caveats: I loved my horse and spent countless wonderful hours of freedom while riding her. But, I didn’t sleep with her and she wasn’t allowed inside the house. During my childhood, we had cats that worked as mousers in the barn and dogs that helped herd cattle and act as guard dogs – they lived outside in clean, protected dog houses. The only pets I own are Koi fish, and they are conveniently hibernating for the winter – outside.

Some more caveats: I appreciate service dogs and don’t mind them in my house. I also recognize that many single and older people enjoy the companionship of a loving pet. Most of my friends have pets in their homes, and that’s just great but I cringe every time their baby gets licked in the face. And, I’ve heard all the comments about the cleanliness of the dog’s mouth, but I’ve seen what the dog licks before it licks a child.

Occasionally I have terrifying flashbacks of the big dogs that used to bite me every day on my paper route. I probably broke several speed records as I peddled faster, faster. So, please understand why I don’t care if you have domesticated animals. Just don’t expect me to pet them.