Filet for Fido

December 1, 2008 | Uncategorized

Perhaps it’s time to call in the psychiatrists. Okay, maybe that’s going a little too far. But, on the other hand, the people that Travel+Leisure (in its December issue) say pamper their pets seem to be going a little too far also.

I mean let’s face it — going to a hotel so your dog can sleep on a 300-thread count sheet on a Simmons Beauty Rest mattress? And be served New York sirloin and scrambled eggs with aged Tillamook cheddar — on bone china, no less — and taken to the salon in the hotel’s Rolls Royce! Old Yeller must be rolling over in his grave.

Now I love pets. People who read this blog a lot know that we’ve got a yellow lab named Dusty. But he knows if he’s ever going to have sirloin and eggs he’s going to have to break into a diner (that’s him to the right in his favorite position). And a ride in a Rolls Royce to a salon? It’s enough to make even Lassie gag.

For some time now a few five-star hotels have been pulling out all the stops when it comes to pets. Fido, it seems, has become quite a profit center — well, at least it was right before the economy started to resemble a pooper scooper. All these pet pampering programs are just marketing tools, of course, and you have to give credit to the people who have come up with the ideas.

But hasn’t it all become a bit absurd? When you hear of people bringing their dogs to the Loews Coronado Bay Resort, in California, for surfing lessons, or to the Loews Vanderbilt Hotel in Nashville for voice-coaching lessons — and the opportunity to cut a CD — it makes me think maybe it isn’t just dogs that get rabies.

Now I’m not going to get all righteous here, preaching that what some people spend on their mutts could feed half the population of Biafra. That’s up to the pet owner to wonder about. But do you really want to be the remembered only as the one who bought your mutt his personal fire hydrant so he wouldn’t have to go near one of those all the others use?

If you really want to make him happy, give him a biscuit and a tennis ball and let him romp about on the hotel’s lawn.

Jim Ferri