Yes, This Is My Emotional Support Animal And Yes, It Is Clifford The Big Red Dog
Hi, are you the manager I asked to speak with? Yes, there IS a problem. Your host — Holly, was it? — won’t seat me with my emotional support animal, who just so happens to be Clifford the Big Red Dog.
She said something about your restaurant not being required to allow emotional support pets? I bring Clifford everywhere. Everywhere that he’ll fit, that is. The ride up to the top of the Empire State Building was a bit of a squeeze, but he loved the wind in his enormous face once we got to the observation deck.
You’re not legally required to admit an animal that’s not trained to perform a service? Oh, but Clifford has years of training, you see. Watch this: Clifford, sit. Good boy! Oh, whoops, I did not see that server standing directly under him.
Look, in addition to having a note from a mental health professional, I paid a lot of money to a for-profit organization with no government oversight to have Clifford registered in the emotional support animal database. You know who’s not registered? Puss ’n’ Boots and Paddington Bear. How about that?
No, Clifford isn’t lap-size or hypoallergenic, but that shouldn’t matter. I’m a paying customer who is requesting very reasonable accommodations for me and my 900-pound dog — who just licked clean your bistro’s front windows for free, by the way.
Well, of course, he’s not wearing a service dog vest. Where on earth would I find one big enough? Ugh, excuse me: down, Clifford! Drop it! Drop that bartender!
Oh, come on, you’re not even busy. It’s lunch on a Tuesday. I’m sure you would benefit from foot traffic noticing a *celebrity* inside. Sure, his last movie tanked, but as I always say, a career in show business is a marathon, not a sprint! (I also happen to be his manager and publicist.)
Well, look! Now that all the other customers have run away screaming for fear of being trampled, there’s plenty of room. Is that table in the back corner available? Clifford loves a cozy booth.
Fine. We’re willing to take a table on the sidewalk, but only if you can promise you’re not scheduled for any deliveries. Clifford absolutely smothers mailmen, and I do not need another lawsuit.
