On the human side, at least, the demand is clear. According to food market research firm Datassential, 66 percent of consumers own a pet (up 6 percent since pre-COVID times), 52 percent think the presence of pets makes restaurants “more inviting and fun,” and 42 percent say pet-friendliness is an aspect they consider when deciding where to eat.

To find out if dog-friendly dining is a good idea in practice, I dragged—er, I mean accompanied—Goldie to three different restaurants in Boston. In the past, she’s taken trips to parks, ponds, rivers, arboretums, trails, campgrounds, cabins, and beaches. She frolicked happily at Park-9 Dog Bar in Everett, a dog-friendly eatery that also serves people and now has a pop-up store in the Fenway. But she’d never been to a regular senior restaurant because I believed we’d both enjoy the experience more without her.

Now I jingled the leash deceptively and took her to breakfast at the South End Buttery, which has a reputation for being particularly dog-friendly in one of the most dog-friendly neighborhoods in the city. On weekends, the patio here is overrun with puppies and babies alike.

The Buttery has plenty of nicely shaded tables along the brick corner at Shawmut and Union Park. I strapped Goldie to one of the handy dog ​​halters on the side of the building and went inside to grab a latte and a morning glory muffin. While I waited, I watched my dog ​​out the window in case an aggressive Pekingese, helpless squirrel, or lick-addicted child appeared within leash reach. Goldie is gentle, but she’s also big and exuberantly friendly (unless you’re a squirrel, in which case she’s just big).

As I unhitched her and led her to a table, she looked at me confused: How about a walk now? Sorry, girl. I gave her the bowl of water I’d brought and some treats while I ate breakfast and answered emails. A texting mother with a stroller noticed Goldie licking her lips and eyeing her perfectly plump little one and headed straight for the curb. Every time another dog passed by, mine would squeeze onto the sidewalk, giving me leash burn. “Friendly?” the owner asked. I replied, “Friendly. Friendly?” As people chatted in this silly way, Goldie and her buddy were already slamming into each other like over-caffeinated linebackers. Had I been alone, I would have stayed longer—it’s a pleasant place to work—but I couldn’t stand the guilt and constant interruptions. We went to the nearby Joe Wex Dog Recreation Space in Peters Park, where Goldie made 17 new best friends and I finished my coffee.

A few days later, my dog ​​and I went out to lunch. I thought I’d take her somewhere a little fancier this time. She could wear her clothes leash. (Just kidding. She only has one leash.) We went to Davio’s in the Seaport, mostly because I’d received a PR email promoting the pet-friendly patio, complete with promises of free treats. An Instagram post from last month said, “We love our furry friends! Bring yours to Davio’s to enjoy free Aquahealth water on our patio. They deserve to stay hydrated and happy, too!” Apparently no one thought to tell the people who work at Davio’s. “Service dogs only,” one employee said regretfully. Honestly, I understand this policy—who wants to indulge in a fancy steak only to be met with someone’s drooling and barking dog at the next table? But I was here on business, so I showed the email to the people at the front desk. Soon I was sitting outside, overlooking the water, with a pretty pink drink and a farro salad with salmon. This was great for me, but was it good for Goldie? The staff? My fellow customers? What if they were afraid of dogs? What if my dog ​​pooped on the patio?

In fact, the staff couldn’t have been nicer. A dog-loving waiter told me all about his own pup. The people at the next table showered Goldie with love as she left. Still, despite my best efforts, she fell between the staff’s feet while they were trying to clear the tables, holding fragile dishes. Every honk of a passing boat was a moment of shock. I paid the bill and we went for a walk. As we passed a park, I spotted an owner letting her dog do his business right next to a sign that said “No dogs allowed in the park.” If there’s a problem with dog-friendly restaurants, it’s probably not the dogs. In the restaurant industry, there are many stories of rude and overbearing customers. Can we really trust restaurant patrons to be considerate of their precious fur babies?

For dinner, it was time to explore the beer garden concept, which is more suitable for dining with dogs than a regular restaurant. Beer gardens are casual by nature. No one is celebrating an occasion or is here to have a quiet conversation. Games are often played, children are running around. Why not add some dogs?

At Roundhead Brewing Company in Hyde Park, there were about 42 kids and two dogs the night we showed up. I got empanadas and four beers. My son and his friend got pizza and then ran off to play Cream Tots at foosball. The people who work there are incredibly nice and someone brought Goldie water in a bowl that said “Doggie Bowl” with a dog on the floor. It was a beautiful evening. Another dog showed up with his owners.

“Friendly?” “Friendly. Friendly?” “Friendly.” It wouldn’t be a bad thing if we could have this conversation routinely when we meet other people.

My dog ​​is a very good dog and easy to handle in public. (“Is she always this relaxed?” asked an employee at Davio’s.) But she’s still a dog. Restaurants don’t have much to offer her; she could be at home, lounging in her bed, scanning the yard for squirrels, and chewing on her toys. You can take your dog outside to eat if you want, but let’s be honest. Dog-friendly food is for the people. It’s not for the dogs.

Devra First can be reached at [email protected]. Follow her @devrafirst.