Something's happened to the town of Winterpark. I like to call it the Paris Hilton syndrome. The dogs are everywhere—and I mean everywhere. They have cute little sweaters. They get special treatment in the fancy boutiques. They ride in strollers. They're Lassies who lunch. Yes, lunch.
Yesterday Emi and I were strolling around Park Avenue and decided to grab a bite to eat at 310. We sat outside for some fresh air and immediately found ourselves in the midst of some kind of surreal dog kennel. The two ladies sitting at the table behind us had three dogs with them. Two of the dogs had massive Christmas wreaths hanging around their necks. Looking around it became clear that there were dogs at most of tables (at a restaurant that sells Conundrum by the glass).
The dogs sitting at our resto seemed to have some kind of barking comepetition with the dogs who were lunching across the street at Park Plaza Gardens. When people walked by with their dogs, the commotion increased tenfold. (Some relaxing lunch!)
Suddenly, I spotted the hound behind us lay out his runny business all over the sidewalk next to our table. We were so appalled and distressed that we took a picture of the stain (to come). The ladies wearing Tiffany earrings and silk pashminas were saying, "it happens!" whilst throwing their arms up in the air. Yes, it happens, but not on Park Avenue while we're trying to enjoy our glass of La Crema. And I'm sure the pups would agree (the hound, by the way, seemed unimpressed by the situation, but he was chained to the table and so had no choice.)
As soon as the woman tried feeding him water out of the sugar bowl, I knew it was the last straw. The waitress came over and told her they had special bowls for dogs and took away the sugar pot with a sweep of her large white napkin. She refused to service the table from that point forward.
We did enjoy our lunch and the entertainment with it. I just feel bad for the dogs.