I and Sherlock (my beagle) love running out together for a vacation, and we like taking our time. Some hotel-motels want us in late and out early, and that is definitely no fun for the both of us. But, I suppose for the convenience of the other travellers, that’s the way they like it.
I called ahead to The Daughter’s Inn to check if they took pets, since their site says they were an old farmhouse and that there’s a lot of wildlife around. I was ready to tell them to accept us or else. In fact, I did not ask nicely at all (one of my problems when I’m peeved, as friends have often told me). “I’m bringing my beagle Sherlock,” I told the boy on the phone with an I-dare-you-to-say-no tone.
“Oh good, Ginger gets lonely,” he answered. “Ginger’s my lab mix.” “Very mixed!” I heard someone call from the background. “Very mixed,” he agreed. “Sherlock? Brilliant name for a beagle.” “I thought so,” I answered, surprised. He laughed. “We look forward to seeing you and Sherlock at The Daughter’s Inn.”
And here we are. They extended the porch and fitted two small rooms behind the kitchen that open straight outside, for pet-lovers like me. They don’t have a fence though, so I brought Sherlock’s wireless invisible fence and set the transmitter hanging outside my door. They brought a hammer and nails to help set it up.
Oh yes, when I say they I almost always mean Owen, Tara, Kevin, and Sakura. They are here on Saturdays for tea–yes, I said tea. I’ll come to that in a moment. Owen and Tara are twins, 11 years old, and they have the dark green eyes that feel Irish. (Their names feel Irish too. I have a feeling Owen is Eoin but I haven’t asked him yet).
Kevin is the son of the owner. He was talkative on the phone, but I found out he’s actually quieter in person. He complements the bold Owen/Eoin. Sakura is the quiet girl to Tara’s supernova, but she’s quicker to action while Tara is quicker to words. Ginger obviously belongs to Kevin, and like Tara had called to the phone, he was a very mixed lab. Kevin was more excited than I to have the dogs meet, but thanks be Sherlock is properly socialized and Ginger is overly friendly.
I arrived on a Saturday morning, which gave me enough time to settle into my room and help Sherlock find his fence boundaries. Lunch was quite the experience–The Daughter’s Inn kept the long trestle tables that fed the farmhands, and so we ate shoulder to shoulder like at the old hotels described by Laura Ingalls Wilder. Somehow, that many people in so little space chases shyness away, and we talked as if it were just some gigantic family reunion.
Most of us returned to our rooms to recover from the gigantic buffet servings, but I took Sherlock exploring the back woods and fields on a leash. We nearly forgot tea–always at four–but Sherlock remembered first and started heading back before I thought to look at my watch. We were just in time, and Sherlock had a refreshing drink as I sipped at tea.