In New York City, Fido gets a seat at the table
ENLARGE
Many years ago my cousin George and I visited a three-star restaurant in France. I have no recollection of its name or location. The only thing I remember is that we discovered our table already occupied.
After traveling around Europe for weeks in the scruffy circumstances appropriate to that era and to our 20s, we’d rummaged around our luggage and found jackets and ties that would allow us to pass as adults able to appreciate inspired cuisine, and who might also be counted upon not to abscond without paying the check.
I vividly recall walking toward our table, doing my utmost to look to the manner born, when the maitre d’ pulled out my chair only to find a poodle sitting there. Its owners, at the next table, coaxed the reluctant pooch off my seat, and our gastronomic adventure commenced.
I raise this memory in light of the New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene’s announcement of new rules allowing dogs to join their owners when they’re dining at restaurants, though only in outdoor dining areas.
I wasn’t appalled by the presence of a poodle in my chair. Neither was I by its owners’ unapologetic attitude when it came time for the canine to climb down and slum it by their feet.
In France, dogs apparently occupy a place similar to children in the family dynasty. Either that or cafe and restaurant culture is so embedded in the rhythms of life that nobody would accept a prohibition against pets.
Also, the noblesse-oblige demeanor of the poodle I encountered at the Michelin-rated destination—my recollection is that there was no growling or any other sort of scene when it was asked to relinquish its perch—took some of the pressure off me to appear blasé at the prospect of a three-star feast.
Only in New York, I suspect, would it have taken so long for dogs to be allowed to join their owners at the table. Or that a city agency would address such eventualities as to whom the responsibility falls to clean up its barf or poo. The answer, with which I heartily disagree, is a non-food-serving employee.
Of course, it should be the responsibility of the dog’s master. And I can’t imagine the pet owner who wouldn’t lunge into action at the first signal that the pet—who better knows its body language?—may be about to regurgitate the athletic sock or chew toy that went missing earlier in the day.
The rules also stipulate that the pups remain leashed, that they be licensed and vaccinated (I’d like to see the waiter who demands documentation) and that they’re allowed only in outdoor areas. That is, if the establishment chooses to accept dogs in the first place. Also, there must be a barrier to separate the pets from passersby.
However, as much as I applaud this civilizational advance—in matters of food-related etiquette I don’t believe we can go far afield emulating the French—the new regulations won’t apply to me.
That is because I have no plans to take our dog Wallie to dinner. It is bad enough having to listen to her whine while we’re eating at home because she’s spoiled rotten and can’t wait to get her paws on our scraps. Dining anywhere without her is a welcome respite.
Also, she’s a bird dog. She’d pursue the first pigeon that strolled by, taking the table or chair, or whatever relatively stationary object we’d leashed her to, plus the plates and silverware along with it.
My wife concurs with my caution. “I’ll wait another five years for her to settle down,” she said. “Sitting isn’t her strong suit.”
However, I realize ours isn’t the average domesticated pooch, which quite often exhibits better comportment than his or her owner.
And in a city that seems to be fighting a losing battle against extravagance in all its manifestations, there is something refreshingly grounding about a dog’s presence. It is a way of championing the human, and subhuman, scale of things; of saying that people and their best friends still matter.
The only threat I see is to the subterfuge of the “doggie bag.” Why request a doggie bag when Fido is already eating off your plate?
—ralph.gardner@wsj.com