You could see the pride on my dog's face as we pushed open the door to the plush lobby of the Hawthorne Hotel. That isn't an easy thing to do since my dog's face -- he is a full-blooded corgi -- is barely a foot off the floor.

"Look at me! Look at me!" He said, smiling upward, though with a nervous question in his eyes. "Is there trouble here? Is this really okay?"

I was not sure. The expression on my face was more wary, a little apologetic. In my entire life, I cannot recall seeing a dog in a hotel. Hotels are for people, or used to be. At any moment I expected someone to shout -- "Get that damned mutt out of here, you idiot!"

Instead two well-dressed women in the lobby began too coo, "Aww, look at that good boy. Is he a Pembroke or a Cardigan? Isn’t he just a darling."

"Pembroke," my wife said, knowing I can never remember the breed distinctions. "He' s a tri-color."

"Isn't he just precious," one lady guest said, kneeling to Beebe's level as if he was royalty and we were his staff. "Yes, he is! Yes, he is!"

Dogs, our latest training guide insists, are more emotional than people. They not only smell, see and hear more than we do, but they process a cascade of feelings that they struggle to express, or not express, based on their level of obedience to humans.

Our night at the Hawthorne in downtown Salem, Mass was an experiment. Admittedly, we hoped to catch the new exhibit at the Peabody-Essex Museum. But we were curious how Beebe would handle a hotel, how the hotel would handle Beebe. My wife likes to travel. I am fond of weekend jaunts to new places. Dog people, like people with children, must be better travel planners. This trip was the test.

Beebe -- his full name is Rev. George Beebe after an historic preacher on the Isles of Shoals -- adjusted better than I did. He was admittedly agog at the endless hallways lined with doors, each offering a soap opera of scent. He was a little disappointed by the concept of single-room living, and continued to search for the rest of the house. He had no trouble with elevators or the changing flow of people. He was over-the-moon with the variety of canines in the public park next door and, too excited to pee, insisted on returning there every few hours until he had the place memorized.

I was less adaptive. Despite the welcoming desk clerk, something seemed askew. Everyone was too polite. The Hawthorne charges a $10 dog fee and you get a nice letter that begins, "we welcome you and your pet". Guests who require a vet, a groomer or a kennel are invited , the letter says, to contact the main desk. You can get an ID tag that attaches to the dog's collar. If he got lost, the authorities would know Beebe was a guest at the Hawthorne. My wife asked if there were similar tags for husbands.

We received our Doggie Room Service Menu from the hotel chef that included an egg white omelet with veggies ($5.95), steamed cod with boiled potatoes ($6.95) or even sirloin roasted with veal sauce and infused with rice ($12.85). Beebe got Kibble from a Tupperware container.

The pet guidebooks all say one should never leave a dog alone in a hotel room. We did it twice, first to catch an early dinner at the Italian restaurant bistro just across the street. Later to have breakfast under a large painting of Nathaniel Hawthorne in the downstairs dining room. Both times I was as nervous as a cat. I may not be as emotional as a dog, but I know how annoyed I would be if some dog was barking next door to my ritzy hotel room.

Beebe, of course, was fine. He protested a little, but preferred the Hawthorne to his crate in the back of the car, which is where he stayed while we toured the museum. Again I was edgy. This dog can sleep at our feet for six hours at a stretch on a work day, but two hours in the crate is all I can handle. Again, when we rushed back to the car, Beebe was out like a light.

The hotel certainly has rules. Your pet cannot join you in the bar, the dining room, exercise room, conference room or pool. Your pet must be on a leash. Housekeeping will not enter a room unless the pet is out. Owners are liable for pet damage. A disruptive pet left in a room alone is turned over to the local humane society. Whether the hotel rules apply equally to cats, koalas, parrots or lizards was not clear. I sense that "pet" means "dog", but was not bold enough to ask.

Beebe appeared to be the only pet in the building during our visit, a situation he relished. From what I could tell, the hotel staff, the guests, my wife and the dog were all comfortable with the arrangements. Despite his short legs, with a running start, Beebe managed to launch himself onto our four-poster queen-sized bed. He watched traffic from an armchair out the window. But mostly he seemed to enjoy lying with his familiar toys among the smells on the hotel carpet.

My nervousness, it appears, has to do with my perception of dogs, which as a species, are more sophisticated than they used to be. My last dog, a mongrel named Ruffy, was shot by a policeman in a field in Bedford, New Hampshire when I was 12. The cop said Ruffy had joined an outlaw pack that was chasing down deer. When he recognized my spotted mutt in the distance, the officer dropped down on one knee and began blasting away. That was forty years ago.

Beebe, though descended from Welsh herding dogs, would never consider such behavior. Like most of his friends, he is SPCA trained. He has all his shots and never misses a checkup. He eats a vet-approved diet. He has "excellent socialization skills". He is crate trained. When he goes to the bathroom outdoors, he always pauses for thirty seconds, head tilted politely away, while a human cleans the mess up. I guess it is human society that is changing, and dog society is simply keeping pace. Adapting is what dogs do best. It is how they survive.

My great uncle Em's dog Tippy, for all the years I knew him as a child, was tied to a collapsed barn by a long frayed line of rope. He barked a lot. He did his business in the woods. Beebe, I'm sure, would consider Tippy to be a Philistine. One sniff would tell all. Tippy lost his tail in some horrible accident that no one could ever recall. Beebe's tail was "docked" at birth by the breeder.

Times have changed. Beebe is purebred, neutered, trained and smart. He is a modern dog for a modern world. Beebe goes where Tippy and Ruffy would fear to tread. He stays in hotels. He's so cute. He is precious. He is a good boy.

SEE: Rev. Beebe on the Shoals as a mere pup

Article and photos copyright (c) 2006 by J. Dennis Robinson.