The Wuff with the Smooth: Mutt-iplexes

I recently read a very interesting (barking mad) article in The Guardian about the rise of dog friendly cinema screenings.

Apparently – according to the article – pooches and their humans are regularly packing out ‘mutt-iplexes’ in London (18 picture houses in the capital alone cater for canines) and in an endeavour I might have undertaken myself, the writer of the piece decided to take his own hound along to a screening – in this case, a showing of ‘The Fantastic 4’ – to find out what all the fuss was about.

At the beginning, when I started reading, I was more interested in seeing what benefit a real dog might derive a big screen environment and all the pumping music and crashing action that a Marvel film usually brings to the party.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: No, you don’t have to book a spot for your dog, nor even pay. And yes, the dogs are allowed to sit on the seats so long as they use the blankets provided.

By the time I made it two thirds of the way through the story, I found myself feeling strangely smug. The writer, a very talented man called Tim Dowling, was having a tough time with his Labrador cross(?), Jean, who initially didn’t even want to board the tube and had to be carried.

I went from thinking, “Welcome to my world,” to “Tim, Tim, Tim… you don’t know you’re living, matey.”

Jean, for all her foibles, managed to enter the cinema without too much fuss and even enjoyed a few treats as the movie played out. Despite not eventually finding out how ‘The Fantastic Four’ ended due to Jean’s infatuation with a lurcher one row up and six seats over (she kept pulling on the lead), Tim’s assertion that he and Jean were ‘frazzled’ after the tube journey feels like a bit of an exaggeration. Sorry, Tim.

“Wait til I tell you about frazzled,” I want to tell him.

“Jean sounds like a proper lady – compared to the Antichrist that I live with. Did Jean whine through the film? Did Jean vibrate with such excitement that the whole row of seats rattled? Did Jean puke those cinema treats up and then roll around in them? Is Jean responsible for your doc prescribing blood pressure medication?”

The reality is that I can hardly take Waffle into the garden without the threat of an international incident. The cinema – ha! – I might as well talk about taking him to the moon.

However, by the time I had finished the article I felt resigned to a rather different conclusion.

Londoners avail of these doggie screenings for various reasons (cheaper than daycare, socialising with other dogs, a fun novelty) but at the heel of the hunt, there is no tangible benefit for the dogs. None. To consider or even hypothesise that a dog gains anything from a pastime which is overtly human in design is pure fantasy; patently, they would much rather go for a walk or sniff another dog’s butt. Therefore, only one reasonable conclusion is valid: Londoners are bonkers.

Indulge me for a few moments longer though and consider how long such canine screenings would have lasted in this part of the world.

More than anything else, for me this story illustrates the distinct separation in attitude which exists between big cities and rural enclaves. According to Tim, who in fairness, ranked pet-friendly film-going pretty low on his list of needs, the practice first started in London a decade ago.

Here, if such an idea was tentatively raised the man responsible would have been quietly taken aside.

Someone would have put their arm around his shoulder and advised, “Gone wise up, hi.”