I love dogs. I love lunching. I love seeing dogs in restaurants where I’m lunching. But one thing I don’t love one bit is a dog being brought to a luncheon which I’m participating in – and, most likely, paying for. Luncheons are for humans – not for our furry friends.
Let’s face it, it’s not like they’re particularly thrilled to be indoors while their owners indulge in a little light character assassination. They’d be having far more fun running around outside eating vomit and sniffing each other’s bums.
They can be big dogs, like the one belonging to my friend K. His gentle nature is swamped by the physical reality of him being the size of a small horse and taking up enough room for two people in a snug bistro. They can be small dogs, like the one N brought to an extremely expensive watering hole, who then attempted to hump my hand (he wasn’t large enough to try it on with a leg) and had to be bought off with an eye-waveringly extortionate steak tartare. But what they all have in common is that they will render a pleasant repast into something of a sideshow.
Maybe there exists a different social milieu to mine where dogs are simply brought out, given a biscuit from the jar on the bar and left to chew it quietly under the table, their presence not acknowledged until it’s time to go home. I seem to recall my father treating Prince the Alsatian in such a manner. But with my cohort, dogs are like furry, daft smartphones. Their owner will never get over the wonder of them, and is forever checking them. I wouldn’t like my guest to behave like this with a gadget, and certainly don’t wish to tolerate it when that gadget has its nose up the waitress’s skirt into the bargain.
I remember the first time I went to Tel Aviv two decades ago and saw dogs everywhere in restaurants; I didn’t associate my adored Jewish people with being big on dog-owning, and this seemed yet another wondrous aspect of how they had bloomed in their hot homeland. As I said at the start, I still like seeing them in restaurants if they’re at other tables with other people. I just don’t want them at mine – and I get that this may be partly selfish and self-adoring, as I wish to be the centre of attention. There’s an old saying ‘Never put two divas at the same table’ – that goes for bitches, too.
I’ve heard some good stories on this sticky subject: ‘My friend’s huge whippet constantly licks her and everything she touches. So when a few of us had a drink in my front garden the other day, as soon as he licked the glass she was pouring prosecco into, we all said in unison “That’s Jen’s glass!”’ ‘I witnessed some dumb parents tying their dog’s lead to their child’s highchair in a cafe with the inevitable outcome – luckily the dog was unharmed.’ ‘I tied his lead to one of the legs of the table and ordered some beer. It arrived when a cat walked past. Dog and table set off in hot pursuit; rather than make a kerfuffle I just looked the waiter in the eye and asked “Encore une bière s’il vous plaît.”’
Dogs are like furry, daft smartphones. Their owner will never get over the wonder of them, and is forever checking them
‘A friend met her husband after her lovely idiot of a rescue mutt scarfed his chips in a country pub garden. She replaced his meal, then he bought drinks for her and her friend… the dog went up the aisle with them.’ ‘My schnauzer makes a point of pooing in front of people dining al fresco; the sight of people enjoying a nice, pricey lunch in a pavement cafe seems to do something to his bowels. But it’s not just eating. He once interrupted what was clearly a marriage proposal by assuming the classic ‘weightlifter’ pose and gifting the happy couple with a log. I said they should look on it as a blessing. She laughed; her intended, not so much.’
‘Once in a gastropub we took our eyes off our beagle and all hell broke loose. He jumped up, crashed on to various tables and grabbed as much food as he could. Recently while walking him on Hampstead Heath while still on the lead, he bolted towards picnickers. Before we could pull him back he grabbed a bacon roll, a chicken salad wrap as well as several sausages.’ ‘I went on a date and during it realised I hadn’t fed the dog, who was with me. So I ordered steak and chips and proceeded to sit him on the banquette and share it with him. Oddly I never heard from the date again.’
But sometimes the dog is the diva: ‘We were having a kid’s birthday party in our garden and our dog Diva obviously had enough of screaming brats, headed up the side path and out of the house. I soon got a phone call from a bus driver asking could I come and get her; when I got there she was sitting on a seat, being spoiled rotten by all the old ladies on the bus. Diva indeed.’
Dogs are lovely. They have beautiful natures – so enthusiastic. They are somewhat like me in that they resemble Brilliant Boy from The Fast Show – ‘Look, a tree, isn’t that brilliant!’ They’re so enchanting that if there’s a dog present, despite my disapproval, I’ll probably get distracted myself. If they’re at my table, I’m probably going to pay it more attention than its owner. So for both our sakes, desist. I repeat: luncheons are for ladies – not for Lassies.
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