Chick Inn

In the past few years, outdoor cafes have bloomed in New York City. A lot of these are pretty nice.

Last night I dined at the Chick Inn, a lesbian-run place just down the the street from Henrietta Hudson (where the awning says "bar and girl") on Hudson Street in the West Village. I like the food and prices at the Chick Inn. This isn't a promo for them, because they're going out of business anyway next month. They'll be missed, as will their logo, a chicken with breasts. Now, I know that all chickens have breasts, but the chicken on the Chick Inn logo has, well, tits. That's the only way to phrase it.

New York has lots of dogs. Most of them are unlicensed, but that's beside the point. The point is, all these dogs have to be walked. I have a dog, too. And he needs to be walked three times a day.

I have rules about where Sparky can pee. The three place where he can't pee are on live plants (except trees), on places of worship, and where people sit or typically stand. The latter includes payphones, benches, and outdoor cafes.

It appalls me when I see people let their dogs pee right in front of an outdoor cafe. It's like letting Sparky pee in their dinning room. Wouldn't they love that.

Last night several dogs peed in front of the Chick Inn. I felt like throwing my ice water on them...the owner, not the dog.