Early in my career, I traveled to Santa Barbara County, among other counties, between two to five times a year. On my first work trip, I found a good mid-range business hotel about a mile and a half walk from the old mission. Since this was before the age of computers, I had to walk into the lobby, fill out a registration card and wait for the resident owner-managers to come out. The first time I walked into this then-strange place and grabbed a registration card, a big brown tabby cat startled me by jumping onto the lobby counter. He chatted with me during the entire time that I spent filling out the card.
When the middle-aged manager walked in, he told me that the cat was Munchy, who had just performed his first job. "One of his jobs is to entertain our guests while they're registering." The man read my personal information, checked my identification and credit card or check - sometimes people paid for their room with a check back then - and asked me if I was visiting for business. Yes, I responded.
He then asked what seemed to be a unique question, "Do you have a cat at home?" I thought about ignoring this, but then I responded no... "Why do you ask?" As he then explained to me, "Well, Munchy's second job is to be a loaner cat for people who travel and miss their house cat. He's trained to stay with guests in their room. We can put his food and litter box and water in your room, if you'd like. When you go to sleep, he'll jump on the bed and sleep on top of the blankets."
On this initial visit, I declined this very unique offer... But every time I returned to the hotel, there was Munchy running up to greet me with a whole lot of news! After almost ten years, I finally decided to change jobs and realized that my next business trip to Santa Barbara - and to the original Munchy - would be my final one for quite a while.
So on the next trip I asked if Munchy could stay in my room. Yes, I was told and he did turn out to be well mannered; during the afternoon and early evening he stayed on the floor or on a chair. But when I was finally ready to turn out the lights he jumped on top of the bed and went immediately to sleep! What a neat cat, huh?
As I checked out I told the husband and wife team of managers, "One day I'm going to get a brown tabby cat and I'll name him Munchy after this one." OK, they responded, we'll hold you to it.
Many years later, a family event brought us back to Santa Barbara. I asked Mrs. Bear to stop at the hotel so I could say hello to Munchy. That was when I learned that Munchy and his owners had retired to south Florida. Sigh.
Not that long after this, at a shopping mall pet store, we found a kitten who seemed perfect for the role of carrying on old Munchy's legacy. But he seemed to be black rather than brown. The salesperson at the pet shop said, "Don't worry. He's a Norwegian Forest brown tabby. Believe me, he'll turn brown!" He was right.
A week or two after this kitten went home with us, I took the new Munchy to see a veterinarian for the first time. The vet said that the kitten checked out fine. He then asked me what name we'd chosen for this young male. I proudly responded that his name was Munchy, which is quite unique. The vet then left the room... (What's going on?)
He returned carrying a young male kitten that he said he'd just adopted. This gray tabby kitten wore a collar tag with his name on it... The name was... Munchie.
OK, so maybe the name is not quite THAT unique. Sigh.
Photo: Joseph/Munchy Archives (Click on the photo to see a larger version.)
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