I love cats. Always have. They’re curious, funny, independent, and far less needy than most people I know before they’ve had their first coffee. I’ve owned two indoor cats that lived nice, long, contented lives.
But that doesn’t mean I want to see one sitting in the middle of a busy restaurant.
During the summer tourist season at my local hangout, someone walked in carrying a cat in a carrying case.
The people simply walked in as if bringing your pet into a restaurant was the most natural thing in the world.
I was surprised they were allowed to stay.
Now, before the internet sharpens its claws and hisses at me, this isn’t anti-cat. It’s pro-common sense.
For starters, there are allergies. Cat allergies are among the most common pet allergies out there. Some people can’t sit in the same room as a cat without their eyes watering or their nose plugging up. They came out for a meal, not an unexpected allergy test.
Then there’s the cat itself.
Restaurants and bars are noisy places. People are talking over one another. Glasses clink. Chairs scrape across the floor. TVs blare. Someone inevitably laughs loud enough to wake the dead. Someone always seems to be celebrating a birthday, anniversary, retirement, or promotion.
Meanwhile, the poor cat is sitting in a little plastic carrier wondering what terrible life decisions led to this moment.
Cats generally don’t crave social outings. They’re perfectly content spending 18 hours a day asleep on a windowsill, a couch, or your favourite sweater. If your cat could vote, I suspect it would choose “stay home and nap” every single time.
So why are we bringing it to the local restaurant?
It also raises an obvious question.
If cats are fair game, where exactly is the line?
Can somoeone bring their iguana?
How about a parrot? He promises not to repeat the bartender’s drink orders.
Maybe someone else would like to bring their pet snake. “Don’t worry, he’s friendly.”
Or perhaps we’ll have a rabbit under one table, a ferret under another, and someone’s emotional-support goat waiting patiently for the appetizer menu.
Ridiculous? Of course.
But that’s exactly why most places have rules.
Restaurants aren’t just serving the person who brought the animal. They’re responsible for everyone else in the room, too. They have to think about allergies, hygiene, safety, comfort, and the simple fact that not everyone wants to dine beside someone else’s pet.
The host was put in an awkward position. Once the customer is already standing inside with the carrier, saying no suddenly becomes much harder than stopping it at the door.
Sometimes good manners simply mean asking first.
Maybe the manager says yes. Maybe there’s an outdoor patio where it’s allowed.
But assuming permission instead of requesting it is becoming far too common.
We’ve reached a strange point where some people seem to believe that whatever makes them happy should automatically be acceptable to everyone else.
It doesn’t work that way.
Public spaces involve a little give and take. We all make small compromises so everyone can enjoy them. That’s why we don’t blast music through our phone speakers, have loud FaceTime conversations in restaurants, or let our kids sprint between tables. Or at least we hope so.
And yes, that’s why we generally leave the cat at home.
Your feline companion will survive a couple of hours without you. In fact, it’ll probably sleep through the entire evening, wake up five minutes before you get home, and greet you with the same expression cats have perfected over thousands of years:
“Oh… you’re back already?”
