Here I stand and I'm waiting.

Today was Jake's tenth birthday! We celebrated by going to dinner at Café Limelight here in Downtown Santa Cruz, as we've done for many of his prior birthdays. For a dog, Jake's eaten at restaurants a lot. I'd reckon he goes out to eat at least five times a year, so he's had at least 50 dining-out experiences.

Yet for all that, he's still not comfortable just waiting to be served. Rather, he knows there's food about so he spends the entire time intently focused on when and how a meal will appear.

Dining out with a dog means eating on patios. I've yet to find an establishment that allows dogs inside; you're always out on the patio or deck, away from other patrons. The best places, like Café Limelight, bring you water in a dog bowl, and have options on the menu just for the pets. Limelight, for instance, has a plate of sliced roast turkey just for dogs. (It helps that the couple who own Limelight are pet guardians themselves.)

Anyone who's dined out knows there's a routine to table service. First there's the seating, greeting, and menu presentation. This is followed by the water service, then the drink order. When the drinks arrive you order the starters or the main courses. Between ordering and food service, there are usually a couple of table visits to refill the water or refresh any complimentary items like bread or chips.

Well, from the moment we sit down at a table, Jake locks onto whomever approaches, convinced they have a bowl or plate full of food for him. At Café Limelight, the tables on the patio face the door, so Jake spends all him time there staring at the main door, waiting for someone, anyone, to bring him food. Every person who comes through that door is, quite literally, a potential meal ticket, and Jake eyes them like they're the last of the good leads in Glengarry Glen Ross. When the long-awaited plate of turkey arrives, it's devoured in under a minute, with more time spent looking for wayward scraps around the plate than was taken eating the actual payload.

Even the check is a source of confusion, with Jake eyeing it as if it were another course. The clearing of the table, though, just like at home signals the end of the meal. As the dishes are removed, Jake finally relaxes a bit, patrolling under the table to find any dropped bits then, at last, coming to rest by his backpack in preparation for the walk home.

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"Here I stand and I'm waiting."	Lyric from the song Waiting by Chris Issac