Hey guys! King Alfred here.
You know. I love me some Marriott Residence Inn. I don’t want no Hampton Inn, no Comfort Inn or even no Marriott Courtyard Inn. Just give me my Marriott Residence Inn.
Actually, I had to wrestle myself out of that black carrying case Moms has me traveling in to come write you my post. There I was lounging on the Marriott bed early in the morning when I could feel something was about to happen. Sure enough Moms came in and scooped me up and tried to stuff me in that black carrying case. She had plans to carry me outta there.
But, there was no way I was leaving the Marriott Residence Inn! No way! I got so angry at the thought. Those of you who know me know that I have anger management issues. I can get an attitude real cop a ‘tude… real fast. (I’m working on it. I’ve made progress but I relapse every time I have to travel.) So, I threw myself about, yowled and tossed and crashed myself up against the wall until I was finally able to free myself outta that dumb carrying case. I ran as fast as I could and hid under the bed.
Moms tried to coax me out. But, I didn’t bulge. So, she gave up and left. She’s gonna be really mad at me because I know she wanted us to go some place. But, I just couldn’t stand the idea of leaving my Marriott Residence Inn.
So, I had to come write you guys to let you know that if you’re gonna stay in a hotel – chose the Marriott Residence Inn.
Moms and I are here because there is work being done on the house – the family Homestead here in rural eastern North Carolina. We’ve been here for 4 days. The first time I came to the Marriott was right after we arrived in rural North Carolina from Equatorial Guinea. Well, actually, we spent some time in Auntie J’s house, and then we drove up to the homestead.
Guys. Ever been in an old, uninhabited house out in the farmlands of rural America? Well, I have. And, it scared me something bad. After we pulled off the local state road and came up into the house, Moms put me down, and I knew I wasn’t going to make it. There were so many country smells and sounds. I could tell there were other cats about. I have an accent – a Spanish accent after spending so much time in Equatorial Guinea as El Rey Alfredo – and I’m afraid of being teased by other cats. And, there are probably mice as well as cats – just waiting out there to challenge me and keep me from getting comfortable in this new place Moms wants us to live in. Plus, the utilities weren’t on.
Moms called Granddad, “Hi Daddy, there’s no electricity in the house… or water. I think King Alfred and I better stay in a hotel until they get turned on.”
And that, guys, was how I got my first taste of the good life at the Marriott Residence Inn.
First, Moms tried to get us into the Hampton Inn. But, they said they didn’t take cats. We had stayed at Hampton Inn in Chapel Hill, but Moms didn’t know they didn’t take cats. Hampton Inn was ‘aw-right.’ I’m just glad we didn’t stay there again.
As soon as I got into our room during my first stay, I knew I had died and gone to heaven. The room had carpeting unlike our hotel room back in Malabo, EG, and it was a little bigger, but not too big. The bed had a bed skirt so I could hide underneath it from Moms and hotel staff. There was a tiled kitchen area for all my food bowls and a special place for my litter box. Loved it!
Plus, up here in the Marriott there is a couch and a lounging chair so I can sit and command my kingdom from a strategic vantage point. I can give Moms my look while sitting on the chair so she knows I’m the KING… and in control – not her.
This is my third stay here because of the work at the homestead, and as soon as I got into my room this time, I started opening up the kitchen cabinets trying to go to check things out. The only problem was that I couldn’t get them open and they kept closing making this awful noise.
“Alfred! Stop that! Stop opening and closing the kitchen cabinet doors. It’s driving me crazy!” Moms scolded. But, I didn’t care. I was in my element. I just kept doing it until I found my second favorite activity: chewing on the round plastic scrub sponge. Check out the picture below with me chewing it. Pretty cool, huh?
Me with the Marriott's dish scrub sponge.
Two days later…
So, guys. I’m back. Even though I was extra nice to Moms during that night giving her special hugs and cat kisses trying to convince her to let us stay at the Marriott, Moms stuffed in me in the carrying case the next day and took us back to the Homestead. The Homestead looks really nice now, and the whole family from all over the country came to visit for the annual Family Reunion. The Homestead was built in 1923 by great granddad and may even go on the North Carolina historic registry.
When I got back I got out of the car and sniffed the air hard. “Alfred, what are you doing?” Moms asked. I was just checking out the territory. When I entered the house I ran into the pantry – my special hiding place – and stayed hidden there the entire day. I was so angry. I didn’t want to leave the Marriott.
Then nighttime came and I just couldn’t take it any more. So, at 3:30 am I got up and started walking up and down the hallway yowling and howling.
“Oh, Alfred, I know you miss the Marriott. It is a great place. But, you’ll have try to relax and get readjusted to the homestead. Look at how much space you have. And you have own special pantry,” Mom told me trying to get me to calm down. But, I wasn’t having it.
I didn’t stop yowling until 5:30 am. By then, Moms was exhausted. So, was I.
I was better the next evening – Saturday evening. The Family Reunion had taken place and during the entire afternoon lots of family members stopped by to see the family homestead and reminisce over the past. I was so scared I stayed in the pantry the entire time. Some relatives would open up the pantry door to see if I really existed and try to coax me out of hiding. No way!
The King in His Pantry
So, by the evening I missed my Moms so much and I was so happy I had her all to myself that I came into her bedroom with my ball in my mouth to play fetch. Moms knows I’m feeling good when I want to play fetch.
“Oh, Alfred, I’m so glad you’re feeling better,” Moms said taking the ball and throwing it, “See… at the Marriott you don’t have all this space to play fetch like you do here at the Homestead.”
I ignored the comment and focused on my ball…
Guys… I”m just waiting for the next trip to the Marriott.
So… let me know what you think, guys…? Isn’t the Marriott the best place for us cats? Any dogs with thoughts out there…??
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