My Fellow Inebriates,
This week my mother got an email from Chelsea of the Moon Under Water Pub & Brewery announcing Canada’s first Beer for Dogs. After some back-and-forth, Chelsea kindly offered to mail us a sample of said “Dog Beer,” saying her own dog (Brew) “likes it lots but he’s not known to be particularly fussy.”
“Well, that pretty much describes you, doesn’t it?” my mother said to me.
“It does not.”
“It absolutely does. You’ll drink anything, LB.”
I tried to stamp my foot, but the same silence resulted as would have without the effort. “Excuse me,” I said, “but you’re forgetting one important thing: I don’t sample non-alcoholic beers, and if I do, I always trash them unfairly.”
“You’re an animal. You could sample a Dog Beer.”
“No, I couldn’t. Functional alcoholics don’t take an interest in things like that.”
“You’re more of an animal than a functional alcoholic. You have to have functions to be a functional alcoholic.”
And so our morning went until finally I said, “Damn it, forward me the email and I’ll try and charm Chelsea into sending some human beer.”
Meanwhile, Miss V said her Chihuahuas would love a sample of Dog Beer. Not that it’s occurred to feed them before, but the kid loves receiving packages in the mail, so why not? Dog Beer is a no-alcohol/carbs/hops beverage specifically formulated for canines by microbiologist and brewmaster Clay Potter. In addition to malt, Dog Beer contains beef and chicken stock along with glucosamine and salmon oil “for a healthy coat and joints.”
Dog Beer will make its debut on August 10 at an all-day event supporting Broken Promises Rescue, a volunteer-run Victoria-based non-profit animal rescue organization. You can get involved by buying a tile in the Moon’s new penny floor. Each tile costs $20 and comes with a plaque you can put your name on, and $10 from each tile goes to Broken Promises.
We passed out tiny samples to reluctant guests who said things like, “Wait a sec. Is gin supposed to be consumed straight?” PINK 47 was aromatic and appealing, but perhaps not the best gin to begin the tasting with. As the most alcoholic of the three, it was a shock. The guests were dutiful, though, and drank it down. PINK 47 was aggressive but charming, with the competence of a seasoned hooker or porn star.
Our guests were wary of gin after sampling straight PINK 47. Of the tray we circulated, only two-thirds of the TANQUERAY thimblefuls were downed, and commentary was muted. Perhaps, after being handled so forcefully by PINK 47, our tasters felt underwhelmed. Perhaps they were afraid (I doubt any of them ever woke up under a giant praying mantis). The consensus was…subdued. It was dry and refined, and didn’t draw undue attention to itself. Very English. I could picture it queuing up politely to vote.
By this time only the stalwarts were willing to try a second G&T mixed by my mother. True, most of them had ankle biters tearing around our yard, but all lived within staggering distance. I’m thinking not everyone is as obsessed with gin as we are at LBHQ. Still, those who tasted TANQUERAY in a G&T said it was civilized and smooth. TANQUERAY is much better at hiding in a G&T than PINK 47, which makes it more of a creeper and therefore more dangerous. All good.
Lastly: 
Only the most committed gin tasters enjoyed a G&T featuring each of the contenders. However, those three people (and one bear) more than made up for the reticence of our well-behaved guests. Usually I’d chart the results, but my head hurts too much, and a lot of the data has slipped away, parceled as it was with other data I deliberately flushed. Truth be told, we extended this Shoot-Out for many days after the official event, returning to the fridge like Scarybear when there’s a cake in it, cycling through all three brands repeatedly until we realized that BROKER’S was it. Classically traditional, a perfect booze-mixer balance, and an orchestra of superbly modulated botanical chords.
Actually, Mum picked beer up before the car decided to take its revenge on her. BEACHCOMBER SUMMER ALE from Vancouver Island Brewery siren-called her from the liquor-store shelf on her last visit, and the car seemed okay about allowing it in the trunk. The car did not, however, point out that she’d accidentally bought a weissbeer; it isn’t quite smart enough to know she wouldn’t have intentionally picked a brew with fruity tasting notes. That, or it just thought “fuck you” and off they went.
Liquorstore Bear 