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"My Name Is Bacci Bogie: Frequent Flyer Extraordinaire"

The Doral

Don’t let the sunshine down on me, I hummed as we headed to Florida for my second trip. This time we would stay in the Sunshine State for two weeks. First at the Doral Country Club in the Miami area, then Ft. Lauderdale and the Westin Hotel. I looked forward to all the new adventures that awaited me. When the plane pulled up to the gate, we waited for everyone to deplane so I wouldn't get crushed. Mommy put me on her lap while we schmoozed with the flight attendants. I received praises galore and lots of hugs and kisses for good behavior. Fellow passengers smiled down at me and spoke in baby babble. Rather insulting for someone so intelligent, I grumbled to myself. My focus was to find green grass. I don’t know how I did it, but I marveled at my self-control. You do the math. We had left the house about 6:15 a.m. and arrived around 5:00 p.m. with a two-hour time difference. That’s a lot of hours for a little guy to control himself! We caught a taxi heading for our destination, the Doral Country Club. I was speechless at the traffic. In our valley, rush-hour traffic meant two cars traveling the same direction within ten minutes of each other Here, it seemed, people expected the frenzy. When we arrived at the Doral, a guard checked our reservation at the gate, and as we drove up the road, I poked my head out the car window, breathing in the warm air and peering at the luscious scenery. Miles of green manicured grass were just waiting for me. Ah, life is so beautiful, I thought. After Mommy checked us in, we found our room and entered a huge space with marble floors, a large jet bathtub, and an ugly looking creature on the patio. His green color was rather muted, and he had a long tail. He slithered onto the grass. We don’t have creatures like that in Colorado, and I decided I could ignore this beast if the monster stayed outside. While walking down to the busy golf club to catch a snack, people stared, guess I am a head turner. The golf course was packed with people in little carts racing around. The café was also crowded with humans dressed in green and yellow clothes and funny looking shoes. They reminded me of the fishermen along the Frying Pan who dressed the same too. I wondered, why do groups of men dress alike? Humans sure have funny customs. It was too bad we didn’t play golf because that was the reason this place existed. However, as an alternative, Mommy arranged an appointment at the luxurious spa attached to the country club. I looked forward to getting another massage as my back ached a little from the flight. The next morning, we ordered room service and then strolled down to the spa. I restrained myself from lifting my leg on the stone fountains and the beautiful flowers along the path. I thought too bad I couldn’t have potty privacy. When we entered the stone building, I sensed that dogs were taboo because Mommy picked me up and put me under her arm. Carlita, our massage therapist, invited us into the massage area and gave Mommy a gift basket. Hmph, where’s mine? I thought, feeling ignored. She made amends by setting me on the table with Mommy. Just as I started to walk on Mommy’s back, someone opened the door and told me to get down. Carlita’s boss reared his head. The massage was over before it began. Busted again. That evening, we meandered around the grounds; music filled the air. The vibrations of the base led us to a wild party. The inebriated revelers danced to the music, grooving and moving provocatively. Women in sparkling clothes and four-inch platform shoes were having a ball, and I wondered how they danced without falling. Mommy never wore shoes like that. Living in the countryside called for sneakers. As the sounds got louder, my paws moved along with my wagging tail. I tapped to the rhythm and was wiggling my tushie when a stunning woman came and held out her arms. Something about her welcomed me, and I timidly accepted the invitation. We danced amid clapping and hoots. My debut at the Doral, at least in my mind, was legendary, my finest hour. Nothing seemed to matter but the beat of the music.