Finding a hotel along the Panama City Beach that allowed pets was more difficult than we thought, but fortunately, my brother Jim arrived today.
My mom and I carried Gussie’s crate into the Panama City airport to meet Jim’s plane Sunday afternoon. He had flown in from Denver, driving through the snow and a herd of elk to land in 80 degrees and white sand.
We had agreed to pick him up in Panama City because he bought some land here a long, long time ago, sight unseen, and wanted to take a look at it. His brother-in-law talked him into it.
“Never listen to your brother-in-law,” Jim said.
We were tired—especially Gussie– so we headed right to the beach area to find a hotel. We would look at the property tomorrow, we decided.
No pets, no pets, no pets. We kept driving from hotel to hotel to motel to motel.
Jim, being from frigid Breckenridge, Colorado, had his heart set on a hotel right on the beach. Not a high-rise, just an old-school Panama City Beach motel. Nice, clean, and pet-friendly for Gussie.
Finally we found the perfect hotel. We could afford it, and its doors opened right out onto the beach.
Jim went inside while my mom and I waited in the car. It was then that I saw the sign in the lobby window that said, clearly: “No animals, except service animals.”
We couldn’t figure out what was taking Jim so long. The “no pets” was a deal breaker.
He walked out after about 10 minutes with three hotel keys. “Did you tell them about Gussie?” my mom asked.
“Well,” Jim said. “They said no animals were allowed except service animals. Then he looked me straight in the eye and asked ‘Is it a service animal?’”
And Jim replied: “Yes, my mom is totally blind and the cat is a seeing eye cat.”
And the clerk said: “OK, you’re good.”
Jim has arrived.