Phase II - or where to lay our heads as darkness falls

Without the specific consent of the owners, pets are forbidden in condos. And most hotels. And you don't sneak Lucy into a place. She'd scare the bejeebers out of someone who wasn't aware of her presence. She provides a pretty good shock when you are.

So we parked at a gas station and flipped through the yellow pages looking for places that allowed pets. We found a listing for the Home Away Inn, at the foot of the intercoastal canal bridge beside the Comfort Inn.

I carried Lucy in on my shoulder and asked if Lucy could get a room. The solid, good girl behind the counter said it was not policy to allow pets (despite the blurb in the ad), but she'd let us stay. She said, "Let me give you a key, and you go look at the room next door and see if it's all right." I took a look. The bathroom was very clean with plenty of fresh towels, the kitchenette was clean as could be, the sheets were fresh and the bedspread was clean. The furnishings were mismatched and a little worn and the carpet was stained, but I've stayed in worse.

Turns out the place caters to the construction workers that are busy all over town. Some have stayed there for a year or more.

She said, "We try our best."

Even the best behaved of them come in dead and dirty from a day's work. Who can keep up?

So we took it. And I liked it. We met some of the people running around, and they met and admired Lucy. It was convenient and pretty darned cheap.

It also had internet access. So what?