Pubs are no place for cats
From our UK edition
The perfect drinking companion is a difficult thing to acquire. Over the last two years, I’ve cycled between Nottinghamshire communists, a Wrexham-born investment banker, a Dulwich College-educated think-tanker and a few others in between. My quest has not been successful, despite the relentlessness with which I’ve pursued it. Perhaps the perfect drinking companion is not a fellow human, but rather man’s best friend. I’ve considered a public house having its own dog a sign of a decent enough boozer for a while, but there is a phenomenon I’ve been noticing more and more of late that I’m unsure of the meaning of. Pub cats. The perfect drinking companion is a difficult thing to acquire. I am not sure when the cat entered the pub.