Sophia Money-Coutts: Can my dog sit with me at the table when I’m eating out?

Had you asked me this a couple of years ago, I’d have said of course not, don’t be so disgusting. It’s enough that dogs are allowed into restaurants, these days. Once there, they should lie quietly under the table.

Then I got my own dog, and I realised the situation is slightly more complicated.

It depends, for a start, on the restaurant. Should you be eating at The Ritz, enjoying a sumptuous and celebratory dinner featuring starched napkins, caviar, foie gras, Dover sole and a splendid bottle of white Burgundy or two, then no, your dog should absolutely not be sitting at the table. A posh restaurant is likely to have posh seating, sprung, upholstered chairs or banquettes which shouldn’t be sullied with grubby paws, even if dogs are allowed.

On the other hand, imagine you’re in the pub, as I was recently, beside the sea in Whitstable. A casual place where scampi and chips are served in cardboard boxes. It was a busy Saturday, with punters and waiting staff scurrying back and forth. We were sitting outside on a bench and Dennis the terrier was at risk of being trampled on, or at risk of tripping someone up with his lead. I lifted him on to the bench and he settled down beside me. Is that so very bad?

I’m not saying they should eat like humans. Not so long ago I was in Lucio, a dog-friendly Italian on the Fulham Road, where the owner told me that his customers sometimes order the fillet steak or the chicken paillard and hand-feed slivers of it to their dogs. Hmm. The punter is paying the bill, so what they do with their food is their call, one might say. But feeding dogs from the table only encourages begging. Admittedly, I did once offer Dennis a small piece of truffled arancini in a Mayfair restaurant, but I felt it was important that he try his first truffle. Otherwise he is expected to lie quietly, most often under the table, while the grown-ups eat.

So it’s situation dependent, is what I’m saying. In a very smart, white tablecloth sort of joint, definitely not. In the pub, well, I’m sure the seats have seen worse. And sometimes, if it’s cramped, if the tables are very close together, if there simply isn’t space under the table, it’s easier to lift them up to your lap.

Also, a few months ago, I darted into Chucs in Dover Street for a quick chopped salad lunch with Dennis. ‘Do you get many dogs in here?’ I asked the waitress, when she brought over a water bowl for him. 'Yes', she replied, adding that sometimes the odd person even brought in their cat to dine with them. As civilised and intelligent readers of Country Life, I think you all know what’s preferable.