Dogs Are Loved in Salcombe

This is an account written way back in September of 2019.

Pet dogs abound in Salcombe, a picturesque fishing and sailing village in Devon, in the West Country of England. Most of them are traveling companions, but many of them live here. Back home in California, dogs may be allowed to sit at cafe tables out of doors, but here, they are welcome inside as well, provided, perhaps, with a rug or a blanket to lie on, a water bowl nearby, and even a doggy treat.

The other night, the lights went out in our kitchen and bathroom at our rental, and we decided it was as good a reason as any to walk down to town to have dinner. We couldn't see to cook dinner, not even finding a match with which to light the many candles provided. The expected rain hadn't arrived yet, and the weather continued to be pretty balmy, for England. Salcombe, they say, has it's own micro climate, but this week, nearing the first day of Fall, was astounding the weather persons on TV.

We walked down one of the steep, tiled staircases,

and then along the path toward the harbour,

heading for Boatswain, a restaurant we had already been happy with, located near the ferry dock in the King's Arms Hotel. We chose a table outside on the deck taking the one closest to the water, picking our way past the many dogs' paws and tails sticking out from under the tables. Some of the dogs faces looked up at us hopefully, tails thumping. I made little clucking noises at them, acknowledging them.

Doug looks at the menu, while I go to the bar for a glass of Guinness for me and a pint of Stella Artois for him, both in their special glasses. The waitress finally comes out to us to take our order of a rib eye steak with the obligatory chips and mixed veg that comes with it. The chef has been good to prepare us another side of steamed spinach, which makes us feel so diet-y, trying to make up for all the bread and butter we've eaten the last month. Now though, we slather it with the butter that we've become so used to on this trip, and salt and pepper.

Just as Doug is about to ask about the readiness of our meal, it comes out. You'd think that the steak would have been overdone in that time, but extra time was probably taken to steam our special request of spinach. We divide our portions on the extra plate they've given us. Just as we're finishing up the meal, a young, black cat with white paws hops up on the low wall tempting one of the dogs leaving the restaurant. Just as he starts to go for her, the kitty disappears, jumping down on the other side, frustrating the pup.

As soon as he's gone, the kitty appears again to check out if anything's been left on a table that had been vacated. A busboy comes by and shoes her away. When the coast is clear, we see her on the wall again and she makes eye contact with us. She's so petite and cute, and reminds us each of cat's we've had in the past . She seems to know we'll have something to offer her and ventures over to rub on Doug's leg under the table. He cuts some gristle off the edge of his steak and tosses it down. "It's only fat", he says, as if he has to explain to me. We're probably the only folks in this town that don't have a pet! This is our chance.

"She's probably called Boots, right, because of the white paws?". I say, as I toss another bit down closer to my chair. He tries to offer her a piece of fried potato, but she's a picky eater, evidently, turning her nose up at it. I toss down a piece of fat and she noses it around, and then eats it delicately. We cut up our scraps in to tiny bits, taking turns offering them, when she hops up on an empty chair, putting one paw on the table. "No, no! That's too much!", I say, flicking my hand showing her that I don't approve. Even as I do that, I motion to her that I'm about to make my donation on the ground. She jumps down, and comes over between us, graciously allowing us to pet her, her tail rising up luxuriously, in pleasure, apologizing profusely for any misunderstanding.

It's getting late, and it's time for us to go. As we stand up, the waitress comes to the table. "Can I clear these away for you?", she asks.

"I think the kitty would like to help you."

"Well, at least it's not during the day", she says. "Around here, it would be seagulls then, wouldn't it?"