Whisky and Puppies

When we got Juanito we knew he needed to be bite size (as in hide in your purse while your momma is hungover at breakfast bite size) because the members of Fenavo are busy souls.  Busy souls who deserve a puppy, but not mean souls who would get one and leave him home alone all the time.

Last Saturday morning after some rambunctious times with Greg Rood, Michael decided he lost his phone and needed one immediately because he was on call for work.  He dropped us off (Juanito, Greg, and I) at the Cadillac Cafe where I was sure we would be escorted out for carrying a puppy in a purse.

The waitress greeted us with open arms and even asked if she could get the baby a glass of milk.  Baby J. napped and licked a few bites of egg yolk and we went home and napped some more. 

The other night we rode our bikes around St. Johns with the baby poking his head out of the messenger bag and then to Ana Banannas where he peeked his head out and sat in our laps as we sipped on chamomile tea and talked about our day.  Everyone died from cuteness so no one kicked us out!

This evening Michael had yet another phone crisis which caused us to skip Payley’s  lemon drop date night so instead we walked to Leisure where we snacked on black olive tapenade and basil pesto.  The waitress talked baby talk to Juan and advised him that the chocolate cake that was being brought out had rasperries straight from her garden.  Juan laid quietly in my green hoodie, the other waiter fully aware that there was a third guest.  A miniature furry creature that he treated with the utmost respect and dignity.

I have lived in other countries and cities where I would have been 86ed at the first sight of a puppy in a restaurant, so little things like this remind me of how lucky we are to live in such a relaxed city.

 A tiny baby chihuahua who gets waited on like a real human guest.

Portland is cute, and I am proud that we are natives.