Welcome to the Dog's EarPUB sometimes known as Gorby's place

gate

Wilbur here.  I know what they say about me, that I'm a bit of a crusty tightwad.  I suppose there is something to that.  But there is a reason.  What some of these folks forget is that I inherited this place.

That's right, when I was a lad I wanted to do almost anything except run a bar.  It was my father's thing and that was good for him and my mother.  They did well enough for their time and truth be told it was a different time anyway.  The regulars were the staple of the business and the seasonal part of the business didn't make or break them one way or another. 

Today, the weekenders all summer come around with a bad attitude.  They have been given the idea that they are indispensible to the survival of many local businesses, and I suppose that in some ways they are.  But it makes them insufferable, arrogant, rude and destructive.  That's not just the young ones either.  This malady has affected the young and old alike.  I for one refuse to be held hostage to a bunch of summer boors.  I have to live with myself.

So, I try as much as possible to cater to the locals and develop a local clientele.  But it means, in this day and age of fast food and such that the business is a lot thinner.  So I made up my mind that I could live with that.  And, along the way it meant chasing away some of the rowdy summer trade.  I just know I have a reputation all the way back to the big city.  And I can live with that too.

Contact Me

 

You have someting say?  Did I mix your drink the wrong way?  You don't like my opinions?

Whatever it is, send me an e-mail. 

WILBUR - wilbur@whippleshire.com

(One of these days I may get my own blog if Leicester gets his backside in gear.)

The Lion

 
Lion's Gate

I've been wondering for a long time about the lion.  The one out front, and the door knocker for that matter.

I asked Rich and Eamon both if they would like to buy it.  Neither wanted it.  It has to be worth something, don't you think?   So why is there a statue of a lion out front of the pub?  That was the name my father gave the place.  The Lion.  Originality wasn't his strong suit either.

The Dog's Ear was the name I gave it, and I confess I never thought about the lion until much later when some smart guy from the city came in and asked me why I didn't call the place the Lion's Ear.  Well, that didn't sound quite right, and I found that the Pig's Ear was taken and one day I just happened to be looking out the window and saw old Mrs. Ketchin's dog wander by and that was that.  If you had ever seen Mrs. Ketchin's dog you'd know what I mean.  She and the dog are both long gone but it was one of those floppy-eared Spaniels and the first thing you noticed about the dog was the ears.

So, now I'm stuck with a dog-eared bar with a lion out front.  There is one thing about it, it does confuse the tourists a little, and that 's always a good thing.

Dog Ear Beer

 

I still don't know if he was pulling my leg, but one day Eamon Gahn was sipping a brew and saying nothing as usual, when all of a sudden he suggested I should brew my own beer. 

That idea had never crossed my mind before and I am still thinking about it.  In order to get set up on this scale I would have to spend some serious cash.  Besides, I don't know the first thing about it.  But the idea still rumbles around once in awhile. 

Eamon suggested I could call it Dog-Eared Ale, or Wag Dog Draught.  I like Dog Ear Beer.  That has a better ring to it.  You know, there was a time when Fred was a little younger and more energetic and she would come in to cook in the mornings.  We called the special, you guessed it, the Dog's Breakfast.  Never really caught on, to tell the truth.

Knock, knock

  • Lion

    Not to worry, the knocker doesn't work. I got sick of that racket years ago and had Jiffy spot weld it. So now it serves no more purpose than the statue.

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