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We caught a taxi heading for our destination, the Doral Country Club. I was speechless at the traffic. In our valley, rush-hour traffic meant two cars traveling the same direction within ten minutes of each other Here, it seemed, people expected the frenzy. When we arrived at the Doral, a guard checked our reservation at the gate, and as we drove up the road, I poked my head out the car window, breathing in the warm air and peering at the luscious scenery. Miles of green manicured grass were just waiting for me. Ah, life is so beautiful, I thought.

Bacci Bogie
Bacci Bogie - Photo
After Mommy checked us in, we found our room and entered a huge space with marble floors, a large jet bath tub, and an ugly looking creature on the patio. His green color was rather muted, and he had a long tail. He slithered onto the grass. We don’t have creatures like that in Colorado, and I decided I could ignore this beast if the monster stayed outside.

While walking down to the busy golf club to catch a snack, people stared, guess I am a head turner. The golf course was packed with people in little carts racing around. The café was also crowded with humans dressed in green and yellow clothes and funny looking shoes. They reminded me of the fishermen along the Frying Pan who dressed the same too. I wondered, why do groups of men dress alike? Humans sure have funny customs.

It was too bad we didn’t play golf because that was the reason this place exists. However, as an alternative, Mommy arranged an appointment at the luxurious spa attached to the country club. I looked forward to getting another massage as my back ached a little from the flight.

That evening, we meandered around the grounds as music filled the air. The vibrations of the music led us to a wild party. The inebriated revelers danced to the music, grooving and moving provocatively. Women in sparkling clothes and four-inch platform shoes were having a ball, and I wondered how they danced without falling. Mommy never wore shoes like that. Living in the countryside called for sneakers.

As the music got louder, my paws moved along with my wagging tail. I tapped to the rhythm and was wiggling my tushie when a stunning woman came and held out her arms. Something about her welcomed me, and I timidly accepted the invitation. We danced amid clapping and hoots. My debut at the Doral, at least to my mind, was legendary, my finest hour. Nothing seemed to matter but the beat of the music.


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