CAMPOut: Two night minimum and no B

Bed and Dog.

As anybody with a beach house knows, build it (or buy it) and they will come. A lot. Visitors are a fact of life. I’m absolutely not complaining. We love our guests.

When Schnauzerhaven first opened, I tried to be Martha Stewart, with matching sheets and towels. Three years later, folks are lucky to get a top sheet. And as long as we’re investigating Miss Martha, I want to know who makes those crappy Martha Stewart pillows. You sleep with them one night, and bingo, the things shrivel up and get lumpy like cotton candy in a Nor’Easter. (What am I talking about here? Just asking…).

Frankly, I’ve had to institute a two-night minimum at our B&D because it just isn’t worth changing the linens for one night. One time I mistakenly made the bed with a sheet we’d used as a drop cloth. My guests got Rustoleum butt.

Another morning I found one of my frequent overnighters completely re-doing the linen closet. I know she was selfishly seeking a towel that hadn’t been used with flea and tick soap, but I thanked her profusely anyway. The linen closet was neat for a week, before it reverted to the inside of a clothes dryer after the fluff cycle.

Our bathrooms are fully stocked with little toiletries pilfered from our last visits to major hotel chains and every once in a while we squeegee the tub-surround to make sure we’re not growing truffles in the soap dish (although I guess the dogs would sniff them out).

It’s easy to tell there’s a problem with the accommodations when you find somebody snoozing on the living room sofa in the morning. That’s how I discovered the den sleep sofa was descended from a Transylvanian Torture Rack. (“We have spacious rooms, including the Dracula Suite, complete with it’s own…”). I finally donated it to two of our regulars who just bought their own Rehoboth lodge. It’s their torture rack now and I have a new futon for my customers.

Have you seen our driveway? Most nights it looks like the Slaughter car lot annex-only the vehicles are far less upscale. Guests leave their keys in a pile on the dining room table, fraternity house style, so nobody gets blocked in. Bonnie, of course, can turn her Tracker sideways on a dime and ride over the lawn so she’s not late for Sunday prayer at Our Lady of Lowe’s.

And of course, there’s the dog thing. Everybody and their dog shows up. One weekend we had six people and five dogs in our 1450 square foot bungalow. That’s a lotta barking. And that was just the people.

We had three Schnauzers (our two plus a visitor), a 3 lb. Maltese and a three-ton Great Dane. Ever see a Great Dane puppy loose in a living room? It leaps tall coffee tables in a single bound, usually taking most of the tchotchkes off the table with it. Our male guests spent the weekend shielding their privates from the Dane’s whipping tail.

Our B&D brochure should read: “The circa 1999 inn is located on half an acre of parched landscaping nestled in a private residential neighborhood between Food Lion and WalMart. We have full service bathrooms, although dogs like to come in and watch. We serve a complimentary breakfast provided you pick up bagels the night before. For a full breakfast, The Crystal is just down the road. We have free issues of Letters and cable TV featuring Animal Planet. The Terrier Lounge is open nightly, serving fresh water and Milk Bone biscuits; a companion cocktail lounge has a fully stocked bar, with Margaritas and Cosmos served on the pre-fab sunroom veranda. Check-in is whenever, provided the dogs let you in the house.

Express check out happens when you’ve had enough. There’s a spacious lawn for outdoor activities, but guests should watch for, er…land mines. This is a non-smoking facility unless the hosts try to cook the occasional breakfast. Then there’s plenty of smoke. Nearby attractions include Poodle Beach, North Shores, and the Wash & Wag Dog Salon. It is a clothing optional establishment-for the dogs.”

It’s all very civilized. Of course, when family members check in, our stress level rises. Why is it, no matter how old you are, your parents imminent arrival makes you feel like you’re twelve? (“Go clean your room!”)

This last visit I was all set: dog slobber wiped off the sliding glass doors, and green Swiss cheese culled from the fridge. An hour before the New Yorkers were to arrive my living room came under attack by an army of ants advancing across the window sills and into the great room. Honey, I shrunk the extras from Braveheart.

I screeched out to Food Lion and stood, comatose, before the exterminating products. My God, if I buy Ant and Roach killer they’ll think we have roaches. Ant and Insect Bomb? Pest and Wasp Killer? They don’t have Dad is Due in 30 Minutes and you live in an Ant Hill Spray.

When I got home, Bonnie was washing the house plants because in looking for ants she found something called Aphids. I don’t know what they are but I don’t want my father to know I have them.

My parents and I survived the visit. The ants did not.

The strangest thing is happening, though. Here at the B&D we are losing a lot of our repeat customers. I’ve been assured that it’s not our spotty hospitality. In the past several months, three couples who regularly lodge with us have just bought their own places in Rehoboth.

And a fourth couple has been poring over financial statements to see if they can afford to check out of Schnauzerhaven and into their own summer retreat. I hope they understand they’ll be going into the hotel business.

Meanwhile, B&D life goes on, with no shortage of guests and no shortage of fun. But I want everybody to know that our establishment does not put little chocolates on the pillows at night. If guests see little brown things there, they probably ought to worry.