Tabby at the sheraton

November, 2007

My cat Tabby and I have been staying at the Sheraton in Tarrytown for a more than a week while my bathroom and bedroom are being renovated. It was advertised as “pet friendly.”

On late Friday afternoon I leave for two hours and when I return, I receive a message from (absent) management that my cat had attacked staff members and damaged the carpet in my room and I was liable for damages. I go up to my room and it looks like a tornado has hit it, with water and waterlogged dry cat food all over the floor, my bed completely undone and all the bedding (along with a filthy mop) on top of the other bed. Tabby had been confined to the bathroom and was OK. All the mess was obviously made by humans, not a cat. I call housekeeping and they say they’re not coming into the room unless the cat is caged. I manage to get Tabby in her cage and then I have to wait more than two hours for housekeeping service, cleaning up most of the mess myself.

On Saturday AM I meet with the front desk clerk and engineer who had been involved in the situation. I have them come up to the room to inspect it. There is no damage, just some remains of the mess. I’m upset and ask them what happened. They’re apologetic at this point and tell the story.  Soon after I had left on Friday,  a maid got spooked when she accidentally discovered Tabby in her hiding place on the floor by the bed, under the large comforter.  The maid hurried out and a staff member named Angel, a young  Hispanic man (if you know Fawlty Towers, think of Manuel) was told to come into my room and put Tabby in her cage.  She chased him out of the room and he reported to the front desk that a “big dangerous cat” was in my room.  The hotel management panicked.  The front desk clerk and engineer entered my room and tried to force Tabby back into her cage with a long mop. In the ensuing commotion, Tabby’s food and water dishes were knocked over, spilling water and dried food onto the floor. The dried food got  scattered all over the room, etc. They eventually managed to get Tabby back in her cage and were about to close it, but were distracted by a knock on the door. It was Angel.  When he entered the room, Tabby hissed, pushed open the cage, and Angel ran out of the room again. They finally managed to coax Tabby into the bathroom and closed the door. I was amazed by their story, all they had to do was stay out of the room. Anyway Tabby was cleared of all charges.

Monday morning the hotel manger, a middle-aged woman, comes up to my room along with a manager in training, a young tall black guy. They are highly apologetic and want to hear about everything that took place. I tell the whole story and the trainee is earnestly taking notes. The manager is very critical of their staff’s handling of the situation, saying it was totally unnecessary. I mention how important customer service is for hotels these days, with customers posting reviews at web sites, and that I will post a review at a “pet friendly hotel” web site.  They say they hope I can recommend them and give me a certificate for a free dinner at the restaurant.  (The name of the restaurant is Basil’s, if you can believe that, Fawlty Tower fans.)

That night at the restaurant I’m ordering my (expensive) free dinner with wine while two waiters and the hostess fawn all over me.  The head waiter pushes the other one aside, insisting that he wait on me.  Angel is his friend and had told him how there’s a big cat in my room, the most beautiful he’d ever seen, and no way he was going to mess with that cat.  The waiter said he’d gone up to peek at her in my bathroom.  A waitress who had brought me room service a couple of nights before comes over and says she wants to come up to my room to visit Tabby again.

After dinner as I leave the restaurant, a curvaceous beautiful black woman behind the front desk calls me to come over.  Her name is Jacqueline. The first night of my stay I had tried to engage her with stimulating conversation like: “Do you like to go by Jacqueline or Jackie ?” (either, she said) and “My 8 year old niece is named Jacqueline, she likes to play softball” (really, she said). Now she has me come over and says: “Mr. Burke, how is your cat ?” She’d just been outside and has her coat on, buttoned all the way up. It was chilly right there but she says: “I’ll take it off” and slowly unbuttons her coat while staring at me, then suddenly flings it open with both arms and a dramatic thrust of her upper body that nearly pops the top button off her low cut blouse.  I stagger away, managing to say:  “Keep warm.”

Tuesday morning the manager in training stops by with a gift for Tabby from the manager, who enclosed a note. It was a windup mouse with catnip inside, of course a big hit with Tabby.  At night I order room service and two cute Latina waitresses (including the one who said she’d visit) deliver my meal. Rather than saying “Here’s the food” they say “Where’s the cat ?” They come in to look at Tabby and talk for a while, I let the meal get cold.

Next stop for me and Tabby: Las Vegas !