It’s a dog’s life down the pub

APART from the Mayflower in London, which doesn’t count, I have just come back from spending the evening in the best pub I have ever been to in a VERY long time.

I was with my beautiful boy and one of my best friends, when we ventured into the Three Tuns in Romsey.

We weren’t sure if it was dog friendly, because loads of pubs in the forest aren’t, but we took our chances and I am SO glad we did. It was a freezing night and the fire was blazing, unlike so many other pubs whose so-called roaring blazes are actually nothing more than a pea-size ember on which two smoking logs are balancing. No flame. No heat. Brrrr.

We inquired about food and a very jolly member of staff looked at us and then at my beloved boy and told us that she would find us a table in the bar to accommodate His Lordship.

The pub was chockfull of locals, so I said that it didn’t matter and that we would just have a drink, but she wouldn’t hear of it and proceeded to politely eject two regulars from their seats to make way for His Lordship and oh, us.

We almost felt guilty that WE were sitting in the seats and not the dog’s hairy rump. The locals were smiling at us and making beelines for Jarvis, who lapped up the attention.

We pondered the menu, which I thought would be tricky for my friend who has been on a permanent diet for at least 12 years; however she couldn’t resist the game pie, nor the ale, the chocolate pudding and err, nor the cheese board.

While we were waiting for our food, all five bar staff came over to the dog at varying times proffering treats from their pockets, for the dog of course.

One regular dug deep into her pocket and almost burst into tears on finding just a crumb.

His Lordship didn’t mind though, he was the star of the show and sat there like Lord of the Manor.

And when our food arrived, the two plates were brought over along with one LARGE bowl for his Lordship, who was given his very own game pie. When we finished eating, several hours later and on first name terms with everyone, Rob the manager brought Alfie down, his Chihuahua cross, just to meet my boy. The only people in this packed pub who did not kneel before Him were two sourpusses sitting at the other end of the bar.

Clearly they were cat lovers.

If Jarvis had the dexterity in his paws he would be looking to book a table at the pub again tonight. I will do it for him.

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