The restaurant industry is going to the dogs.
Chains like McDonald’s and Chuck E. Cheese have known for eons that an effective way of drawing business from moms and dads is by promising their kids a fun time. Now the industry is awakening to the importance of another non-paying influencer, this one-four legged.
In ways as numerable as a Dalmatian’s spots, concepts are throwing the household pooch a bone, figurately speaking. Or literally, in some instances. Right now at Hot Dog on a Stick, Fat Brands’ quirky retro concept, patrons with a canine guest can earn such perks for the pup as treats and toys, some of them presumably in the shape of a bone. To qualify for the extras, the two-legged patrons have to spend at least $20. But the real cost is having to suffer through a tsunami of dog-themed puns, from “drool-worthy” to “Bone Appetit!”
Stiltsville Fish Bar, a mid-scale seafood restaurant in Miami Beach, has more items on its menu for dogs than it does on its bill of fare for children. The selections include Poodle Noodles, Chow Chow Chow and a Zoomie Scramble (a zoomie is the ridiculously joyful dash by a dog let off leash in an open area).
But those premiums are as ho-hum, to the humans at least, as the reindeer sweater grandma gives you every Christmas. The real howl-inducers are the experiences promised by a new crop of restaurants that can loosely be categorized as off-leash concepts.
Think eatertainment for dogs. At places like four-unit Mutts Canine Cantina in Texas, the pooches can frolic and gleefully butt-sniff in supervised off-leash runs while their masters sip a Barka or a Texas Mule or munch on a chicken sandwich. “Bark Rangers” tend to the dogs while the humans indulge.
The pups aren’t left out of the feast. With sufficient begging, they’ll be treated to canine cuisine masterpieces like a Pupsicle, a frozen treat of peanut butter and beef broth, or a Doggie Dogs, better known as mini hot dogs.
The food is purchased a la carte, and anyone can use the restaurant. But there’s a cover charge for dogs. Patrons can either buy a day pass or subscribe on an annual basis, for amounts not revealed on Mutts’ website.
Off Leash, a similar multiunit concept in Georgia, charges $365 a year.
But the advantages go beyond a non-traditional revenue stream. A subscription, or the sheer delight evident on Fido’s face, are likely to promote frequent visits by the bodies on the hand-loop end of the leash. At a time of declining traffic within much of the industry, that’s not dog spittle.
The concepts are also well-suited for a period of bruising inflation, like the business’ current environment. If dog owners balked at ridiculous prices, Spot or Lilac would be limited to playing with rocks and sticks. Instead, they likely have a toybox of stuffies and other playthings, each of them costing more than the master would like to admit. We dog parents joke that our canines have more coats than we do, and some of us have even upgraded to larger vehicles so Spike and Elvis have enough room to lay down on trips (the dealer should have broken a bottle of Champagne on my aircraft carrier before sending me off the lot).
Nothing’s too pricey or extravagant for a furred friend. That ensures the off-leash places enjoy a price elasticity few other sorts of restaurants can match.
Of course, there’s a niggling sense that we may have seen heart-tugging concepts like these before. A few years ago, much to the delight of lint-roller manufacturers, there was a wave of concepts where you could play with cats while enjoying a few drinks or a nosh. Cat cafes, the bane of mice and dogs everywhere, proliferated into a veritable wave—only to die down just as quickly.
They gave rise to other places where animals were the attraction, and food the incidental draw. There were parrot cafes, for those who wondered what it’d be like to lose a finger, and even places where you could eat beside a paddock of llamas or horses.
But let it be noted right here, right now: If someone tries a ferret or boa cafe, we’re calling the authorities.