two

Most hotels provide various family care services, and the Ritz is no exception. However, based on the startled look on the fresh-faced young woman who now stood uncertainly in our sitting area, I gathered that Nigel had not made it clear that the “little guy” who needed a sitter for the night was canine and not human.

“I was told that you needed a babysitter for a three-year-old boy,” said the woman, who had only moments ago cheerfully introduced herself as Maureen, adding that she “just loved kids.” Skippy had bounded off the bed at her entrance and now sat politely before her, his paw raised for her to shake.

“That we do,” Nigel agreed cheerfully as if there was no confusion. “Skippy here is a good boy, for the most part, but like most three-year-olds, he needs supervision.”

Maureen regarded Skippy warily. Skippy stared back, his large fawn-colored head coming nearly to her waist. Shifting the pile of coloring books and crayons to her left arm, she gingerly shook Skippy’s paw with her right. Skippy barked happily.

“We might be late,” I said apologetically. “Please feel free to order anything you’d like from room service.”

“I highly recommend the martinis,” Nigel added as he fetched my coat. “Just don’t let Skippy have more than one. They tend to put him in an amorous mood.”

“That’s you, dear,” I corrected.

Nigel paused. “Right you are,” he agreed after a moment. “Still,” he added, turning to Maureen, “just to be on the safe side, I’d limit him to one.”