Gone to the Dogs

Last Sunday I went to a brew pub in a nearby city which, like the pub, shall remain nameless.  For one thing, I don't exactly want to sound like I'm singling out the pub, or the city, or even the industry, because it's not just them.

Brew pubs are a growing style of bar these days, as the craft beer phenomenon has gotten a lot of traction.  Now, I am good with a Corona Light myself, and don't really appreciate the heavier, more flavored versions of beer that are brewed a barrel or three at a time, as opposed to in massive breweries.

That's unfortunate, because I kind of appreciate the atmosphere of a typical brew pub, even if rarely is the beer itself anything I would enjoy, and certainly not think to bring a six-pack of it home for later.  But that's how it goes.

I happened to go into one of the larger (floor space-wise) pubs Sunday, with maybe a dozen tables where the patrons sat, and a ping-pong table at one end, again one of the typical accoutrements of the inside of such a facility.

What was not, I thought, typical was the fact that a half-dozen unleashed dogs were running around as well, guests of the patrons who had come out for the afternoon, some kind of dog-friendly accommodation made to attract people who wanted to take their pooches and get a drink.

Now, I suppose this is not news that I do not really like being around dogs, so it was not a particularly pleasant experience for me, even given that they tended not to come over my way and bother me while I was there.  Bars are for me to drink at, not my pet (my cat will sniff near an empty glass of wine, but is not big on beer).

And you would not have noticed much askew if you were not looking for it.  But I, a bit shocked at the canine presence in the first place, did keep looking around.  And I saw a few things that I wasn't real thrilled about, starting with the fact that no one seemed to be paying constant attention to their dog, but rather just let them run around as if minding them were someone else's task.

That led to at least one occasion when one of the animals chose to relieve itself, such that the bartender -- who was the only employee there -- had to go clean up a mess.  That it happened in the first place was unfortunate; that it happened in a place where people are served consumables is uncomfortable; that the bartender had to do the cleaning was sad; that he chose not to immediately wash vigorously was enough for me not to order any more beer.

Needless to say, the dogs, having only that day been introduced to one another, were quite curious about each other's backsides, as there was consistent sniffing of each other and a fair bit of chasing, which at least in the half-hour I was there, did not result in anyone being tripped.  Fortunately.

I am not an insurance adjuster, but if I were the owner of the place, I think I'd be really concerned about a liability lawsuit from something I had no control over, but which would have happened had the wrong dog collided with the wrong person carrying a flight of glasses.  I would be concerned about the fact that, had I not actually seen an obscure sign that this dog invitation takes place only on certain afternoons, I surely would never have returned (of course, seeing the bartender not wash up after cleaning after a dog would have done that regardless).  None of us really has business we can blow off that easily.

Of course, I followed that by heading to another brew pub, much smaller, one person on staff, and was greeted by that bartender's dog, who comes to work when its owner does.  Again -- it's just me, but when I go for liquid refreshment, I am not interested in the attentions, good or otherwise, of an animal.

I've no idea if this sort of thing is now commonplace (I was two for three this day), but I hope it is more a rarity.  I hate to come across like that, but we all know people who think their singing is wonderful, and who want to serenade us when we really don't care for it.  Having someone's dog running around you or greeting you in a place where you're drinking and not expecting animals, well, it's the same thing.

I really don't want to hear you sing, even if you think you have the greatest voice, unless I ask you to; and I really don't think your dog is the most wonderful critter ever.  Please keep both tucked away where they belong. 

Stepping off grump-mode podium now.

Copyright 2018 by Robert Sutton
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