Shortly after dinner the first night, we’re back in our room reading when a rather loud meowing emerges from outside the front door. I open it and in shoots Caesar, a corpulent and love-hungry brown tabby, one of three resident cats. He’s known, the desk ladies tell us, for inviting himself in on cold nights.
He ingratiates himself via purrs and rubs, lets us pet his fat little belly, and settles down for a winter’s nap. Noting from our warm welcome that he’s won the lottery in the random room-selection game, he wisely decides to spend the night with us. He asks to leave around 7:30 a.m., and Brett gets up to open the door for him. We hope he returns, maybe with a friend.
Things the desk ladies tell us these cats have to deal with that ours do not –
- raccoons who hate them
- coyotes who like to eat them
- eagles who can swoop in and carry them off
Better to be a city cat and only have to put up with the occasional mocking of crows.
Caesar's friends, Marmalade (who clearly takes his work in the hospitality industry seriously) and Kiska.
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