I know how much some people like cats. So I won't begrudge these two women their kitty conversation. What I will gripe about, however, is the contents of that conversation and where it took place.
The cat-loving ladies were discussing the health of one of their felines. It was clinically explicit. No, scratch that. It was disgusting.
See, I was sitting at the bar in an Old Town Tacoma restaurant last week trying to enjoy a glass of Zinfandel and a plate of tacos.
But the ladies –- one of them was the owner –- chatted like they were in a veterinarian's waiting room, not a place where people were eating and drinking.
Let me put it this way: Some of you read my work because you are interested in the food and beverages I encounter as I dine around the South Sound. I'm pretty sure you don't want to read my morning-after digestive diaries.
The sick cat conversation wasn't unusual. That one of the people in the conversation was a restaurant employee (or an owner, in this case) is not unusual either. From fine-dining establishments to oyster shacks, I've heard workers chattering about everything from soiled kitty litter to serial molesters.
I could go on. But a nagging voice in my head keeps saying, "Watch what you say. People are listening."