WHITBY – A small crowd of local dogs gathered on leashes outside of Aule Wine Bar confirmed that the artfully stenciled sign reading “Nee Canes,” which prevents them from enjoying the establishment’s sophisticated conversation, rustic yet polished décor, and carefully curated vintages is 100% fine as far as they’re concerned.
“What, do they think we’d voluntarily to go in this place?” said Blake, a golden retriever mix. “Like all I want is to sit next to some skeletal divorcée while she swills down Zinfandel and complains about how her son’s college application process is too holistic.”
Blake then politely stepped away from the group and shook.
Aule, which opened last month, offers a variety of tasting flights with a focus on reinventing classics from California and the Southwest United States.
“You would have to pay me a lot of money to have me sit there while they play through an entire Neko Case album,” said Mr. Big, a Teacup Maltese. “Jesus, does that woman ever not sound like she’s dying?”
Other dogs were similarly unimpressed. “They’re all like, oooh, we have soooo many bottles we just have to cover an entire wall with little individual slots to keep them in.” said Scout, a Jack Russell wearing a small kerchief. “And I’m like, you know what, we get it, you have a lot of bottles. Maybe tone it down.”
The bar’s menu also received criticism from Adonis, a Greyhound and retired athlete. “An entire raw oyster menu? Are you kidding me? Is there anything more objectively disgusting than raw oysters? What the hell are these people trying to prove?”
Others, like Blake’s wife and adult Mastiff Ernestine, are slightly more understanding. “I get that people like the novelty of a classy drink, a but they’ve really missed the mark on—“ she said, before interrupting herself to bark at a stick.
Before the dogs adjourned, Mr. Big weighed in on the quality of the wine. “Look, it’s not just the tone of the place – a lot of their stuff is just mislabeled. Half of the Malbec ‘67 is really just an oaky batch of last year’s vintage. I can easily smell that and I’m outside for chrissakes.”
Mr. Big then resumed licking himself.
