I promised to continue my story of staying with Frankie at the Ritz-Carlton, Dove Mountain, so I will, but I’m not quite sure how it ends: Frankie’s eye, which has been bothering him ever since the trip to the groomer to gussy him up for his debut at the posh property, is little improved. It looks like a trip to the vet is in the cards today.
The takeaway message(s) might be: Home grooming — at least for shaggy chic Frankie — is best. And there’s no such thing as a free hotel stay. Had I not wanted to improve on Frankie’s natural good looks, his eye would be fine (ok, deep breaths: This is a guilt-free zone, guilt-free zone…).
Being not only a luxury hotel slut, but also a celebrity whore, I had hoped to get Frankie to the cocktail reception in order to photograph him with Joan for my KVOA TV slot. This was not to be. The reception was indoors, in the resort’s signature CORE restaurant, a dog-free zone.
No worries, I figured. I’d have plenty more time the next day to get Frankie — who of course is famous in his own right — his celebrity shoot with Joan.
So Frankie stayed in our hotel room, watching the flat screen TV. I did interrupt the (amazing) six-course dinner to walk him and give him a bit of purloined buffalo steak.
That’s when I began noticing he was pawing at his eye. It continued through the night. By the next morning, it looked red and he could hardly open it. There was only one thing to do: Check out so I could have Frankie checked out.
As I prepared to drive off, the whole media group returned from a morning hike. They stopped by the car and said hi, and Joan got a peek at Frankie, but he was not looking his best. This was no time for a photo op.
Incidentally, Joan Lunden, who was scouting out the Ritz for her Camp Reveille, is not only extremely nice but someone who does not have to worry how she’ll look on HDTV, unlike some pet travel correspondents I might mention…