BY SCOTT STIFFLER | As dozens of worried loved ones flooded the front desk with phone calls, those booked at a boutique hotel in Chelsea slept very well on the night of Sept. 17. Insulated from the chaos unfolding just steps from their door, they were living a dog’s life while FBI, FDNY, and NYPD personnel swarmed the block and sealed it off until further notice.
This was not occurring on W. 23rd St., site of the explosion, but four blocks north, at 104 W. 27th St., between Sixth and Seventh Aves. And the guests whose health and welfare suddenly elicited such concern? They found themselves in the city not as tourists with tickets to “Cats,” but as canines, boarded at D Pet Hotels Chelsea — an upscale doggie daycare destination whose amenities include play areas, overnight suites, a private chef, chauffer services, and unlimited on-demand belly rubs.
Still, knowing the level of pampering given to these lucky pooches didn’t completely allay the fear of “parents,” for whom separation anxiety is an issue even under the best of circumstances.
“The whole reason we were created was to take away the stress and guilt parents have when leaving their dog,” said Kerry Brown, co-owner and manager of the four-year-old franchise (chelsea.dpethotels.com). “It’s a home away from home for their dogs,” she said, citing the brevity of that journey. Most of their daycare business comes from “people who live or work within 10 blocks, so it’s definitely a neighborhood spot in that regard.” As for the element of exclusivity (the hotel’s own boutique pedigree notwithstanding), all dogs may go to heaven — but only those who pass the “pretty strict” temperament test make it past the lobby; and even then, every four-legged furball is assigned to one of three size-appropriate play areas to ensure the inevitable roughhousing happens among those in the same general weight class.
“Taking a dog to daycare is a lot like taking your kid to the park,” Brown understated (most human play dates don’t require written proof that your vaccinations are up to date). Brown also noted that despite its “five-star” nature, the “children” of many FIT and NYU students are regulars ($84 covers 24 hours of care). Every guest has the comforts of home, even if they’re not basking in one of the private luxury rooms, where $200 a night affords Fido a full-size bed and a 42-inch flat screen TV. “It’s nicer than my bedroom at home,” Brown deadpanned, adding that no matter the level of lodging, “we allow parents to bring the dog’s belongings, so it [their stay] feels, or at lest smells, like home. We also encourage parents to bring a t-shirt that smells like them.”
Such personal touches help to comfort the guests, who, Brown recalled, were largely oblivious to the events of Sept. 17, even as sirens wailed. “What’s ironic about that,” Brown said of D’s design, “is we soundproofed our whole space. There’s denim material plugged through all of our walls and sound panels hanging from our ceilings. We also have rubber floors, so all that helps keep things as quiet as possible. The dogs were in their suites [by the 8:30 p.m. bombing], totally cozied up and comfortable. Dogs play all day long at our place, and they normally conk out at 7 p.m. once they’re done.”
While her charges had their eyes shut and were quite possibly enjoying pleasant REM-state visions of fire hydrants and squirrels, Brown and her team kicked into high gear. “That night,” she recalled, “I was out with friends when we got news of the first device. When we heard about the second device, I cut my dinner short and called [the hotel]. You never know how they’re going to react, but they were poised,” she said, noting that beginning shortly after the first media reports of a suspicious pressure cooker on W. 27 St., “Louis [Rodriguez, head of the overnight crew] got probably 40 calls from parents, trying to find out if their dog was okay. They [NYPD] had shut down the block, and there were a lot of unknowns for a few hours. But Louis, his role was to stay very calm [with the callers]. I was on the phone with him back and forth until about 2 a.m. The next morning, we sent out an email to all of the parents letting them know everything was okay, but we might need to be a little flexible with the check in/check out times, because the street was closed.”
As the block remained closed to pedestrian traffic the following day, hotel staff “had to meet parents on different [nearby] corners, or adjust the check out time to the next day. No one was able to drive [up to the hotel], and we had to walk some dogs home.”
For Dimitri Aletras, the night of the Chelsea bombing was an occasion when routines, kept and broken, made for an unusual convergence of good and bad timing. The W. 27th St. and Sixth Ave. resident is a marketing executive in the hotel industry — a job that keeps him away from Cooke, his four-year-old Boston Terrier/Miniature Pinscher mix, for long periods of time. As a result, frequent stays at D Pet Hotels Chelsea has made the crew into Cooke’s “second family. He’s grown very fond of them. I take him there [almost] daily. On a good day, I pick him up at 8, but there have been days when I don’t pick him up until 1 or 2 a.m. He always comes home exhausted and happy.”
Aletras found himself on the block of the W. 23rd St. bombing just three hours before the explosion — getting a haircut at Made Man Barbershop, then off for a drink at Boxers bar (on W. 20th St.). Prior to that, he picked Cooke up from daycare and dropped him off at home, “which is not really the normal routine. Then I heard the incident had happened. I would have preferred my dog be there [at the D] for him to be in safer hands.” When Aletras arrived at W. 27th, “there were at least 40 of us lined up on the street. We were there until 4:30 in the morning, trying to negotiate with the NYPD and the FBI to get into our apartments.” That process was further complicated given the fact that, of all times to do so, “I had misplaced my ID. I didn’t have anything with my address on it, to get into my building.” Given its proximity to the barricades, “the FBI could see me going in [the front door] with my key. Going forward, I took my Con Ed bill and passport to be able to provide proof of residence.”
Finally reunited with Cooke, “You could tell he was very stressed out,” Aletras recalled. “I don’t normally leave him alone for that length of time. He’s used to the New York City sounds, but I think the sirens scared him. He can sit on the windowsill and look out [onto W. 27th St.], so I’m sure that shook him up a little bit. When I came in that night, he had his little man cave blankets in the closet, and he was very excited to see me.”
The next morning (Sun., Sept 18), still feeling a bit overwhelmed by the situation himself, Aletras took Cooke back to the D “to chill. The support system there was really fantastic, and such a relief. It was stressful to me, because it [the secondary bomb] had been halfway down the street from where I live…I didn’t want to pass that stress on,” Aletras said, noting that Cooke’s very presence never fails to have a calming effect. “Dogs are the most comforting creatures one could have as a companion,” he said.
For Brown, the aftermath of Sept. 17’s incident reinforced why she chose to put down roots in this part of town. “It brings tears to my eyes,” she said, “the outpouring of support from the Chelsea and Flatiron community. We got so many calls on Sunday from regulars [who didn’t currently have dogs at the hotel], wanting to find out, ‘Is everyone okay, are the dogs okay, is there anything I can do?’ And that sums up Chelsea. It’s such a neighborhood. Even though there might be clashes here and there, it just felt like everyone had each other’s back. It was a nice reminder.”
