Schaefer Demands Equal Dining Rights for Cats
In 2004, failed presidential candidate John Edwards famously made a speech about "two Americas," a reference to the socio-economic divide that plagues our country. But this is not a column about politics; it is a column about food. So you're probably asking yourself, "What the hell is Eric talking about this time?" My wife asks me that question almost daily.
It's quite obvious to me that John Edwards wasn't referencing the "haves" and the "have nots." Rather, he was talking about the gap that truly divides our union: the great chasm between cat people and dog people. And when it comes to restaurants, the dog people are winning by a landslide. I'll show restraint toward bird people, because that's just plain weird.
- Grumpy Cat Lands a Movie Deal
Let it be known that I do not, and will not, identify as a "dog person" and have chosen to shamelessly and selfishly hijack this column for my own personal political gain. Down with the dog people and their incessant demands for handouts, special accommodations and entitlements. El gato se puede!
The day has come when we no longer can tolerate elitist dog patios, tripping over specially placed water bowls, and the distinctive putrid stench of wet dog messing with our palates. Enough is enough! From this point forward, I demand that restaurants that make special accommodations to dogs make the same accommodations for cats. Our feline friends deserve to dine with dignity.
When choosing to dine al fresco, why must I be subjected to your yapping chihuahua, with its shaking torso and beady eyes? Yo no quiero Taco Bell, and Yo no quiero to eat with your dog either. Don't you know that it's unsanitary?
I once dined at Zinc Bistro, a mere three feet away from an Irish wolfhound. He may have been old, lazy, and quiet, but at well over 100 pounds, he weighed more than one and a half Scottsdale moms and took up more space, too. (Implants not included.) It just doesn't seem fair to me. Last time I checked, dogs took pleasure in sniffing each other's asses and licking the place where their balls used to be. So why are they wandering around a restaurant or, for that matter, why does one need to sit on your lap while you eat?
Apparently, dining with dogs is a thing now. It really is. So much so that this town's mainstream newspaper published a list of "20 Dog-Friendly Restaurants in Metro Phoenix." Among that list of conspirators? Local mainstay Duck & Decanter, Aunt Chilada's, and even Chandler's chic neighborhood hangout BLD. There are many others, reinforcing dog people's misguided sense of entitlement. Although the health code prohibits animals from being inside an establishment that serves food, patios are excluded, rendering them nothing more than germ-, dander-, and feces-laden meccas of filth.
Cats are clean, incessantly grooming themselves to surgically hygienic standards. They are soft, non-intrusive, and gentle. How often do we hear of an innocent bystander being mauled to death by an out-of-control housecat? They're not the darlings of the Internet for nothing.
Imagine a world free of prejudice, where cat people can enjoy the same dignity as dog people. Imagine a world where you could snuggle up to a silky Persian cat while eating your kubideh kebab at The Persian Room. Imagine drinking a Rwandan Musasa coffee at Press Coffee Roasters, while gazing at a Savannah cat from the same region, its gentle purr soothing your frazzled nerves. Imagine going to Mastros, and instead of being offered a black or white napkin you're offered a cat that complements your outfit. These days are upon us; better times are within our grasp.