This is Roxie. She is a barbecue dog.
In this, we have much in common. She gets to hang around outside savoring the magical aromas emanating from a great barbecue restaurant all day long – and if I could, I’d be doing the same thing.
My love for such dogs began years ago at the fabled Rose’s Hamburgers, in a ramshackle red hut off Greenville Avenue in Dallas. Rose Stivers made the best hamburgers in the city there for half-a-century. Almost every day until his passing, Rose’s husband sat outside with his dog – a big, intimidating Chow-mix. Rose’s faithful customers included a who’s-who of the city’s elite. Luminaries such as Tom Landry, Ross Perot Sr., politicians such as Bob Bullock and Bill Clements. Even musicians such as Don Henley, who secretly paid for Rose’s memorial service when she ultimately passed away. But your status didn’t matter to that dog. If he didn’t like you, you didn’t get in. Therefore, I always made sure to save a bit of hamburger for him as a bribe, just to make sure I got in the next time.
As I learned back in my nightclub days, always take care of the doorman.
I might start doing that with Roxie, too – because I’ll definitely be headed back to Goldee’s Barbecue in southeast Fort Worth.