Last month, the pet boarding hotel I used to frequent went bankrupt.

It's not a scam, but legally deregistered after the contract expired.
Three days before closing, they were still running the 618 pre-paid activity.
I followed the rights protection group to figure out their tricks, and after watching, I broke out in cold sweat.
This is not boarding at all; it's a legitimate money-making machine disguised as pet care.
The operation method is as follows: first, register a main station in the suburbs, using an abandoned farm, which costs almost nothing.
Then rent a storefront in the city center to open a luxury boarding house, decorated like a five-star hotel, with temperature-controlled cat trees, 24-hour surveillance, and two air purifiers at the front desk.
Charge three hundred per pet per day, double on holidays.
Twenty cats can break even, fifty directly profit.
After collecting enough pre-paid deposits, the city center branch announces closure and upgrade, telling you no refunds, but you can send your pet to the main station for continued boarding.
You drive to the main station entrance and find it's a tin shed beside the highway, filled with bunk iron cages.
Your Persian cat curls up in the corner, ears bald in one spot, and the ragdoll in the neighboring cage keeps licking its paws.
But you don't have time to feel sorry because the contract states that unless Party A is grossly negligent, pets' stress reactions are normal risks.
The definition of gross negligence is in Clause 8, Item 3 of the supplementary agreement, and you didn't download that page at the time.
Even more outrageous, this company owns three other branches under different brands, with the same legal person.
Each contract states the "main station address."
You can't find that place on the map, but it exists legally and complies with the Animal Epidemic Prevention Law.
Last week, I passed by that street, and the original location has been cleared.
A sign on the glass door says a new store is about to open.
No category listed.
I checked the recruitment info at the door and found they are hiring veterinary assistants, with a job description that includes: responsible for emotional comfort in the boarding area.
I remembered the ragdoll that kept licking its paws and suddenly realized that the so-called emotional comfort might just be giving animals a little more time between abandonment and complaints.
The A4 paper was blown by the wind, lifting a corner, and underneath was the old store's price list.
The photo of the luxury suite was still that sleepy-eyed golden tabby.
Below the poster, a line of words: "We see it as the only one," with a background photo of all the pre-paid members on opening day.