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........

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