Smaug at the Smokehouse

We've said many times that we love the Dunedin Smokehouse.  We usually go there once a week for some wings or a sandwich and we take Jam and Coach with us because we can sit on the patio with the both of them.  Our usual waitress, Lisa (pictured below), adores Coach and dogs in general.  Coach happens to bear an uncanny resemblance to her first dog, a lab, and he brings back very happy memories for her.

Lisa and Coach.

Usually, when we come in and sit down, there may be another dog or two, but they are all well behaved and there isn't a problem.  Last night was a bit different.  We walked in and tried to take our seat by the big fan so the boys could catch a nice breeze.  As we were sitting down, the table that was a table away from us and had a HUGE white German shepherd at it sort of vibrated with people moving and flailing and looking about.  Mr. Shepherd had sensed our presence and like Smaug in The Hobbit he was waking up and about to express his annoyance.

Then we heard it: a deep threatening, growling bark.  And since we had not seen the sleeping white dragon and had, like peaceful hobbits just come for the food, had sat down without scoping out the area like a Ranger, we were surprised.  Jam and Coach both sat up at attention and then looked at us.  In our best Gandalf voice we told them to sit down.  They did and then they went into a down stay. Comforted that no harm would come to them.

Smaug was still not happy.  He could spy them through the forest of legs and hobbits were in his territory. He let loose another yell.

"Oh, criminy! Let's get out of his line of sight." I told Fred.  I pointed to a table at the other end of the patio. Fred nodded and we packed up and moved.

Smaug drifted off to sleep and our peaceful hobbit dogs, silent and happy, never made a peep the whole night.  If I had had Gandalf's pipe of smugness to smoke, I would have.  Hobbit dogs are so much more well mannered.