Cross-Eyed Cats and Smelly Schnauzers

If you think staying in a B&B seems slightly odd, you’re right. But always up for an adventure, my husband and I stayed at a B&B in Muskoka a few times. We loved the quaint setting and got to know the owners a little. How can you not? You’re sleeping down the hall from them and sharing their bathroom.
 
Our first time at “Top House” was memorable. We got engaged that weekend. On one knee in the forest, outside the little cedar church where we would get married, my husband proposed. 
 
We spent the weekend poking around little shops, lounging on a patio over looking Lake Rosseau, exploring nature and enjoy hikes in the woods.

One afternoon as we returned to the house after a long hike — punctuated by several periods of hot and heavy, er, nature appreciation — we were greeted by the owners. As one of them commented on our flushed and healthy complexions, their dog bolted toward us from the living room. He made a beeline for my husband, jumped up and started enthusiastically sniffing and licking him. My husband mumbled an explanation which to this day makes me laugh out loud EVERY time I think of it. 


“Uh, I think he smells my schnauzer…”

{In case there’s any confusion, he was referring to his parents’ dog.}

I fled from the room but I’m sure they could hear my hysterical laughter from our room upstairs.

As if the trouser schnauzer incident wasn’t bad enough, here’s what happened on our next (and final*) visit…

The B&B owners also had a Siamese cat. We quietly referred to her as Barbara, since we both agreed she was Barbara Streisand’s feline doppelganger. 

As we sat at the table waiting for our breakfast, we were entertained by the cat who was sleeping on top of the TV. She kept rolling over, nearly falling off and startling herself awake. At one point she started sliding down the back of the TV without waking up.

“Barbara!” my husband yelled. “BARBARA! WAKE UP!!”

At that moment, the B&B lady stuck her head out from the kitchen looking annoyed and said, “Yes? Can I help you?”

Oh god. Barb. Her name was Barb, short for Barbara and she thought we were yelling at her, impatient for our scrambled eggs and toast.

There was no point explaining that we were referring to her cat, Barbara Streisand. Again, I had to leave the room so I could laugh my head off in private…

Now we only stay in hotels.

*Shortly after our last visit, the B&B closed. I’m sure it had nothing to do with us.

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