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la fille en rose
For many years in the American South it was a custom for working class taverns and saloons to have a bar dog. They were commonly dogs of bloodlines that were at best undistinguished, and more often unknown. Mutts, in other words. Mutts fit in well in working class bars.
I’ve seen bar dogs in other regions…New England, the Midwest…but they were usually recognizable breeds. I’ve seen them in Europe as well, of course, where dogs are often treated like better-behaved children. In the South, though, the dogs were generally regarded as drinking buddies, just another regular patron of the bar. One of the guys.
Sadly, the custom of the bar dog is dying in the U.S., another victim of the American phobia about germs. Such a shame. Look at this face. Whether you’re having a beer or a glass of pinot grigio or a café au lait, could you imagine a more genial companion? A more sympathetic listener? A more agreeable friend? And if he occasionally gets distracted by a passing fly or licks himself inappropriately or unconcernedly breaks wind, it seems a very small price to pay.
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