Dogs and cats might be as opposite to each other as night and day, but if there be something common I found in my visits to these two cafes in different parts of town, it be this.
Passion.
Passion not from the cats or dogs- chances are they were already neutered and they've got great personalities of their own- but Passion from the owners of the cafes and those looking after them.
It takes a great deal of dedication, I tell you, to be able to get them dogs to gather (almost) immediately. fix their gaze at the one single spot that you want, and stay there.
That's what the staff at Dog Town Cafe did.
No calling, no shouting, screaming, carrying, anything excessive.
All they did was to call the dogs' names, grab their attention (with treat in hand) and signal them to look at where they wanted them to look.
Didn't matter the breed either- the huskies settled down, the corgis settled down, the (curious, playful) French bulldog decided to pancake beside one of the guests, and even the half-asleep Westie decided to lumber over.
It was all very steady, very peaceful.
We had a couple of bites- the deep fried spinach rolls were wonderful- and I went around admiring the thick fur of the huskies, the corgis, and the all the rest of the dogs.
It was a lovely time I had that afternoon at the cafe.
Midway during my visit the staff let the dogs out to the garden for playtime and it was great joy just seeing them run about in the well-manicured yard.
No one told them to not go here, not go there.
No one shushed them up if they happened to bark at the rare passersby, or at each other.
All of them were simply allowed to be themselves.
If they didn't wish to go out, they didn't.
If they changed their minds halfway and decided to go out, the door was opened for them to go out.
It gave me quiet joy to just watch them with all their individual quirks, like the Shetland sheepdog who wouldn't stop sniffing the tree at the side of the garden, like the corgis who ran around in circles sniffing each others' butts, like the mini Schnauzer who made his way slowly to the water bowl then all around the grass, and like the Westie who padded his way out, stared at everyone for a while, then decided to settle down.
I miss the Westie.
It's not every day that I get to have a West Highland Terrier this adorable come sniff my toes and then settle down at my feet.
It's also not every day that I get to have the same terrier allow me to stroke his soft, comfortable fur whilst he nuzzles his ears and head against my leg.
He seemed to know what I needed.
I hope he didn't find me irritating.
One never knows, even with well trained domesticated animals.
I was more cautious with the cats at Mohu Mohu Cafe though.
Not because they were temperamental or moody or anything of the sort, but because generally I tend to be more cautious with cats overall.
Upon entering the cafe, we were given a brief description of how the system worked.
It wasn't complicated; basically your price covered about 1.5 (or was it 2) hours of playtime with the cats. Included in the price was a selected menu of food and drinks which would be brought up to the second floor. Cats were on the third floor. You could go play with the cats whilst waiting for your food to come, and you could bring your drinks up, but not your food. Apparently the cats would try eat it which was bad for them. But you could buy cat treats to feed them with.
Buying cat treats was exactly what we did, so, armed with 70Baht worth of Wet Food (in a little plastic sauce tray), up we went to the second floor to wait.
It didn't take long before we decided to first go see the cats on the third floor.
The felines were rather surprised by our presence, I think.
Maybe they weren't expecting visitors this hour of the day.
We felt literally ignored by them all save for one or two who came curiously by and then went off after that.
We went one round greeting each one of them then decided to head back down to the second floor where our toasts and drinks were waiting.
Special mention must be made of the menu here at Mohu Mohu cafe, because even though we had opted for something simple like Bacon Egg Lava Pizza Toast and a Caramel Honey Toast, there were other foods like Apple Cinnamon Honey Toast, Takoyaki, Karaage Chicken, and mains like Miso Cheese Fried Rice, Omu Rice, Oyakodon, and Homemade Hamburger Steak.
For drinks we decided on a Caramel Latte and an Chocolate Frappe.
The Caramel Honey Toast came with a scoop of matcha ice cream and a dollop of whipped cream and can I say that I haven't had this much whipped cream in a while?
We went back to the third floor after our toasts, bringing our drinks with us when we went.
Shall I say that the cats were a little more active now than before, but contented still they were to wander about the room, hop from chair to chair and chase each other without bothering hooman intruders at all?
There was a white one asleep on some sort of a rattan shelf near the door.
There was one asleep at one corner of the room in its little bed (and who stayed there asleep the entire time)
And there was one on its perch right near the window who wouldn't give you time of day even when you approached.
They were chill, no doubt, these felines, and it would take the cat food- yes, the cat food- before they started coming towards us, and all of a sudden most of them became very eager.
The bolder ones didn't hesitate to climb onto your lap for the little tray that you held in your hand.
And the rest simply sat here and there around looking expectantly towards you.
We went around the room handing out cat treats to the cats using a little spoon. Some of them got very eager. Others, however, ate it, then went back to their perch again.
We were glad for the interaction, even if it meant we couldn't sit down the plastic tray in hand as the more active ones would begin climbing all over our legs and shoulders just to get to the treat.
So my friend and I took turns.
When the cat treats finished, we studied the photo collage on the wall trying to guess which cat was who.
Because they had names- all of them- and it was quite fun trying to figure out who was Goma, who was Goro, who was Milo, who was Don, and who was Chobi.
I don't think we recognized any of the cats.
At least I didn't.
But it doesn't matter.
Especially since by the end of it, one of the cats had gotten so accustomed to us that one or two settled down comfortably on our laps and let us stroke it.
There's a part of me that wishes I was a little bolder with the felines, or that I had bravely taken more pictures, but I'm glad to have come, and maybe next time if I'm in Bang Rak I might go back to Mohu Mohu again.
There is, after all, this little one who accompanied me to the toilet and whom I would love to see again.
