Hablemos, Tele

My dog is a purebred Maltipoo, his name is Versace, and he’s fancier than gold… or so I thought.

For Christmas, I left him at a luxury hotel, the “Dogs Care Hotel”. But I made the mistake of not telling them that while he has a designer name, he has a pirate’s soul.

The manager called me, outraged:

• He says Versace escaped his suite to party with a Maltese named Andreina.
• They broke into the hotel pub and charged a bill for “Puppy Lattes” and artisanal treats to my credit card.
• And to top it all off, he got into a fight with Andreina’s ex, trashing the lobby, and I have to pay for the damages.

Now he’s grounded, watching Game of Thrones marathons to see what happens to those who think they’re kings.

My advice for the next time I travel? I’m not taking him to a dog hotel… I’m sending him to brand rehab, because this dog doesn’t want regular food he only wants Gucci kibble and to be driven in a Ferrari!