Day Six

Zoobley and I spent the day in New Orleans doing the tourist thing. Fortunately, the French Quarter is very dog friendly and only one shopkeeper ran us off. We spent a few hours in an Internet cafe composing the travelogue you received last week. Internet cafes are a convenient way to stay in touch without having to carry a laptop but they can also be a real pain in the butt. Unlike the versions shown in the Microsoft commercials, they are usually in out of the way, dingy rooms with banks of cheap, slow computers spaced just a few inches apart. They are mostly frequented by young travelers from around the world catching up on e-mail and making reservations for future travels, but there is always one or two sports gamblers checking the latest scores and boisterously letting everybody in the cafe know how much they won or lost on fantasy football. I'm surprised at the variation in price from place to place. I have paid anywhere from $2.00 to $10.00 per hour for access. Today, Zoobley was a real trooper sleeping quietly under my chair and enduring countless petting and prodding from the cafe manager and various customers.

Cajun weekend home

After all the walking and countless pats on her spotted little head, Zoobley was tired so we went back to the Rathbone for a nap. I said earlier that the Rathbone was an old row house converted to a hotel, but I guess it's really more of a bed and breakfast. The owners live in one side of the house and serve breakfast every morning in their kitchen and living room. Our room is more like that in a friends hose than a typical hotel room. The floors sag a little and the door needs a little shove to open and close. Best of all, we have a real key to unlock the door instead of a credit card. Somehow, when I stay at a modern motel, I always subconsciously feel like I'm spending money when I unlock the door.

Family shrine along the bayou

The power went out at the Rathbone about six o'clock, so Zoobs and I headed back to Bourbon Street in search of a restaurant that serves small spotted dogs. Thanks to an eager Maitre' D, we found a nice place with a patio where I enjoyed a good Chicken Florentine and merlot followed by a great tiramisu and cappuccino. Zoobley enjoyed a glass of water and a lot of petting from a head waiter. It still amazes me that well behaved dogs are shunned from American restaurants but poorly behaved children are welcomed with open arms. This is an area where I understand the French are much more highly evolved. Presumably, there is a health argument which is nonsense because smoking, which is much more potentially lethal than the Zoobs, is allowed in most restaurants. I encourage you all to write your elected officials asking their support for the Zoobley Bill legalizing dogs in restaurants and other commercial establishments.

Shrimp boats on Bayou Lafourche

After dinner, Zoobley and I strolled up and down Bourbon Street the music flowing into the street from the bars and clubs; everything from heavy metal to blues to jazz. Occasionally, when I would sit on the curb to listen, Zoobs would patiently lay down with her little spotted head politely placed on her paws while hundreds of passersby would stop and pat her on the head or scratch her butt. It seems that just about everybody likes a spotted dog from tourists and bikers to Maitre' Ds and hookers.

Sleep as late as you like. Ha!

The tug Jennifer pushing a barge