Pooch n You Two: The Review.

This story is the second in the Empress Egret series. You will understand it better if you read the first one, “Pooch n You”, before you read this.

I pick up the local Arts News on our walk. Egret isn’t enjoying the rain, though I am. Everything smells fresh, I see thunderheads approaching, it’s my kind of afternoon. I let her tug me impatiently on the way back, her ears the picture of misery. She doesn’t mind storms, as long as she sees them from the back of the couch.

It’s a good one, I use it as a reason to light some candles and get a fuzzy blanket. We cuddle on the couch and watch the lightning. I drink my cocoa slowly. Egret snoozes gently beside me, her dollop of whipped cream having knocked her out. Candles wave wildly, making a mess in their holders. I can never shut the window on a storm.

As the storm moves on, the sun comes out and gilds everything. I wish I was outside now, but Egret is comfy, I don’t move. Ozone knocks her out too, I suspect, she has a long nap. I pick up the magazine and go straight to the back, for the restaurant reviews. Lots of faces on my phone from Pooch n You, surely one of them was there to cover the opening? Who was it? Like an intriguing puzzle.

I am absolutely thrilled to see a picture of the Frenchman and his handsome dog, a true celebrity, sitting quietly in a corner, drinking a lot of wine. I see his name, Monsieur Pamplemousse, in the article, I wish I had seen him get nabbed by the writer, who I see now is the woman who sat on the other side of the fire, her dog in her lap in the whole time. Such a tiny head, when she put it up over the edge to nibble on her bone. I remember the bone dropping into the lady’s lap, she had a napkin there, thank goodness. A private eater, she cleaned it up, I saw it fall to the floor, picked dry. I don’t think she was ten inches tall.

Her owner’s name is Madelaine, a local writer who specializes in the unusual. I remember a few of her articles, one called for the right to not be labelled biohazard, another featured local wool producers and dedicated knitters. A review of Pooch n You is just her thing. I start to read it but my eye is caught by a second review, just below it.

Look closer, this one is by her dog, Butterbean. I laugh out loud, Egret starts and falls off the back of the couch, into my lap. Quick, where’s the phone? Yes! Get a few good shots, the restaurant reviews in the background, her full face yawn, her licking her own face like she’s trying to figure out what it is. She sleeps hard, my pooch.

Light a lamp, it’s getting dark and my candles are hard to read by. What does Madelaine have to say? No. Cut ahead, I want to see what Butterbean has to say. I’m expecting an interview format, where Madelaine gets her dog’s opinion and shares it, for the sake of other dogs. That’s what I would do, anyway.

Oh no.

Butterbean, who writes elsewhere under her pen name, Carcass, has written this herself. I didn’t stop giggling the whole time I read it, though she makes it clear that it’s a serious review. At the bottom I see her rating system, a series of symbols, barks are awarded or withheld, standards appear to be very high. I can’t imagine her comparison base, this is the first of its kind, as far as I know. Below the review I see a few credentials, they look impressive. Several bones in Paris, many Florentine steaks, from the fall festivals, and a roster of Asian delicacies that would shock Egret to her core. Yes, this can be considered an educated palette. I avoid the small print once I see the word gopher, I’m trying to imagine providing my five pound dog with such fare. Roadkill? Surely not. I shiver, let’s see what she thought of Pooch n You.

Those who may have seen me at ‘Pooch n You’ last week, will no doubt remember the reckless abandon with which I enjoyed my size small, meaty bone and it’s garnish, a Montrachet, if I’m not mistaken. Attention to detail is so hard to find these days, I reward it when I find it.

Pooch n You makes all of its items, including the cookies. It uses filtered tap water, composts on site, food for dogs is cooked in the same kitchen, using the same, locally sourced ingredients. They like to remind customers that their menu will change, seasonally, but the dog menu remains constant. Organic, free range beef, grain fed for six weeks and humanely processed.

The food is excellent, though I want to see more organ meats on their menu. Birds are underrepresented, I would have liked to see a self-serve of some kind. Rodents are also plentiful as we know.

As a ‘Shortie’, I’m quite unable to enjoy the Noble Pursuit, but I heartily endorse the concept. Long may we ravage. Those of us who can, of course.

I interviewed Haggis, asking him what we were all dying to. Why the little mongrel? No disrespect to mongrels, of course, I know plenty of them. I was curious, why single anyone out at all? If so, why her? His reply? I quote, ‘I’m pretty sure we’re soul mates’.

So romantic, so darling. I’ll be sure to keep you posted as the love develops. Ladies might be interested to know that Haggis goes commando at home, the tweeds are just for looks. His owner, Liz, feeds him off her fork, he can eat lying down if he wants to. Such is the life of the Rich and slightly Famous.

I also interviewed Clementine, such a shock for something of her size and temperament. Has she always been nervous? She revealed that Chihuahuas are bred to be skittish, mothers teach their clever youngsters to tremble and open their eyes wide. These find the best homes, humans being what they are.

Pick up my exposé, “Sold Short: the explosive truth about the tiny dog industry”. Co-authored with Spitzer, The Unruly Dachshund. Find it on something called Amazon, and be prepared to weep.

Clementine is actually a bully, she terrorizes the neighbourhood on her daily walks. Her performance in the restaurant earned her a free dessert. As she put it, ‘it’s all about attitude, we have to play the game with what we’re given’. Rumours that she belongs to a Mexican paramilitary gang committed to freeing Texas, are just talk. She doesn’t smoke cigars, but she drinks Tequila on holidays.

Her final words?

“I can handle a thirteen inch bone, anytime. Don’t forget it.”

Clementine and I address stereotypes in our upcoming novelette, ‘Heart of a Big Dog’. Plan for a sequel, ‘Watch Where You Step’. The harrowing true story of a Bittybark that was mistaken for a Hamster.

Oh, too delightful. I read it again.

“You hear that Egret? She can handle a big bone.”

Does she really have a book out? I’ll have to look it up.

Move up the page, what can Madelaine say that I’ll enjoy half as much?

I like it, she keeps it nice and simple. The idea, the food, the service is praised, she spent time in the guest chair and found the owner Elizabeth to be charming for brief periods of time. Willing to talk with strangers but holding her book in her hand, fiddling with the bookmark.

She answered my few questions, but it was the waiter, Caydon, who sat down with us and dished. The staff are all crazy about working there, hardly surprising. Owners are encouraged to pick up after their dogs, bags and bins are provided. Well placed cameras do the most to keep their dog run clean. The owner is odd, but ready to admit it, her people are encouraged to be whatever they want. Happy staff, mistakes are made and fixed with no fuss, it’s an easy place to be.

The food is excellent, her chef Antoine is new to the city, having spent his formative years in rural Quebec. A lucky find for Elizabeth. When I said this to Caydon, he smiled.

“She went looking for him. In a camping van, just her and Haggis. Drove through the province, parts of Ontario, doing nothing  but eating. Every summer for three years, until she found him. Legend has it that he refused to leave his place until Haggis persuaded him. Actually true is that Antoine has him every second weekend, they cook together and Haggis steals his pillow at night. I want to be reborn as this man’s dog.”

Laughing again, I like Madelaine and her review..

She writes about her lunch, the bone, the cleanliness, all favourable. What’s not to adore  about this restaurant? At the bottom a post script.

To the owner of a small, black and grey dog named Egret. Haggis requests the favour of her company. Pooch n You is pleased to offer you both complimentary lunch, at your convenience.

“Oh. Egret. You’re in the paper darling. Mommy will cut and frame this. What a precious thing you are. Does mommy love you? Yes! Yes. Who’s my famous pooch? Who’s my little temptress?”

Sleepy blinking, this sounds like a belly rub to Egret. Give her a good long one while I pick up my phone and make a reservation.