Pubs: The Windjammer

The Windjammer

This is a fairly new addition to my approved list of dog friendly pubs. The Windjammer in Royal Wharf, East London. Royal Wharf itself is very dog friendly. Some of me furiends live there.

The pub is a 20 min walk or so from where we live in Royal Victoria. I love walking there. There are so many smells to sniff. We have to keep stopping. Sniff sniff sniff. Cock leg. Sniff sniff sniff.

Ants and Pants

Recently we went for Sunday lunch with the lovely Rita. We gots a table in the corner so I could be kept out of trouble. I did me best though to cause some mischief. Sat next to mummy on the bench but kept trying to clamber over her. Back and forth. Back and forth. Down to the floor. Back up again. Tried to climb on the table to give Rita kisses. Mummy said me got ants in me pants. What she on about? I don’t wear pants.

I’m spinning around

The Windjammer knows how to serve its doggy clients, I gots served first. Quite right too! I is more important than Rita. And far, far more important than mummy. Got two bowls furiends! One with boring water, ok I’ll have a little sip. And one with doggo treats all for me(although would have liked a lot more than four!!)! Mummy made me wait until she and Rita got their drinks and made me spin around before I was allowed to eat them. One by one. Wants them all in one go mummy!

I eagerly watched as the hoomans’ food was delivered. Well not so much mummy’s – yucky nut roast. No fank you, I don’t wants any. But Rita’s chicken! Me fave. Drooling on the floor I was. They took ages and ages and ages to eat their lunch. Don’t understand why? I wolf my food down in seconds. It’s not difficult. Hoover as much in as possible. Chew noisily with your mouth open. And it’s gone.

Finally it was determined that there would be some leftover chicken and a bit of potato and Yorkshire pudding. What is Yorkshire pudding? Me don’t care. It’s food…. Me likes food remember! It got put in me treat bowl and like magic it disappeared. Poof. Gone.

Full bellies

Mummy and Rita are moaning now that they is full and they is glad they didn’t wear anything too tight. What is wrong with their bellies? Mine is never, ever full. Impossible.

So imagine my surprise when more food gets delivered. Surely it’s come to the wrong table. They is full after all. Apparently hoomans can still eats dessert even when they is full. Me don’t understand hoomans. I was not allowed any of it. Outrageous! Don’t blame me ladies when you needs to go on a diet…. I could have helped you save some calories….

I is bored now. No food to snaffle. Mummy slurping on her grape juice. Until she needs to go toilet. The panic! Where she gone? Whine, whine, whine. Oh fank god, she is coming back. The joy! Kiss kiss mummy. So glad you came back.

Time to go! Bye bye to the Windjammer! A much needed walk home then a snooze on the sofa for me and mummy.

Which pub shall we visit next mummy?