Ilze Berzins

A single bed's not so nice for me. Dad doesn't like twin beds either. Mum is mesmerized by yet another Ann Rule true crime book.

Mum raises a glass. I’m cozy on the futon.

Little did we know that Columbus Day was almost upon us. (That’s Thanksgiving for us Cannuks.) And due to this important holiday long weekend, we were turfed from the stinking hole of Days Inn due to previous reservations. Great news in some respects. But what now?

“Let’s get the fuck outta here,” Mum and Dad said in unison as they threw our meager possessions into the Volvo.

“Where we going, Honey?” Mum intoned. She wasn’t worried. After all, Dad was a former Mainer. He had to know what he was doing and where he was taking us.

“To where this land ends,” he replied cryptically.

Puzzled, Mum shrugged, but then, minutes later, she began to gush.

“Oh my God! This is soo gorgeous! I can’t believe it! It’s soo gorgeous!”

She carried on like this all the way as we proceeded up the winding, hilly, spectacular Route 24 which was to end at—you guessed it—Land’s End.

The vast expanse of the ocean was before us. We were on Bailey Island. Paradise found!

Some five minutes from Lands End we reached the hidden treasure called the Driftwood Inn– hidden only because of the narrow, winding lane that leads to the inn. We soon found out that Driftwood Inn had quite a reputation. It was almost fully booked. Almost was good enough for us. Dad eagerly booked whichever room or cottage was available.

From the moment we breathed the bracing salt air and set foot on the grounds we knew we had found respite. Maggie the ‘inn keeper’ enchanted us with her somewhat zany take on office work. With a toss of her lavish blondish hair and a twinkle in her merry eyes she relegated us to Harbour View cottage (dogs allowed in cottages only).

I did feel a bit unappreciated what with Mum carrying on about how wonderful everything was and Dad ready to pull out his wallet and Maggie and Dave and the real owner of the whole outfit whose name was MENACE.

To me he was just a plain old ordinary tabby but everyone kowtowed to him. Scared of my shadow he was and too inconsequential to be chased. But all the tourists at the inn were gaga over him. He was everywhere, being picked up and cuddled and cooed over. Quite nauseating when you consider that dogs were barely tolerated, had to be on leash all the time yadda yadda. But whatever made Mum and Dad happy. And they were indeed happy.