The shopper has a new best friend

By Janet Eastman

January 25, 2003 in print edition E-1

BALOO Marquez eyes the merchandise at the Banana Republic store with indifference. The form-fitting sweaters. Plush leather totes. Chunky necklaces. To all of it, Baloo widens his mouth to the size of a dinner plate and yawns.

The 165-pound Saint Bernard, with saliva-cicles dripping, is lumbering through the shops on Second Street in Long Beach with his owner, Frances Marquez. And while the presence of a dog his size in a clothing store gives one pause, no one is trying to show him the door.

Once restricted to the two-legged, the nation’s marketplaces are increasingly welcoming, or at least turning a blind eye to, shoppers who can’t leave home without their favorite canines. And it’s not just foofy dogs in designer carriers but great big ones, some looking as bored as a husband waiting in the bra department at Sears.

At a large chain store in the Beverly Center in L.A., a red-eyed Rottweiler is pushed in a shopping cart, water bowl sloshing, by an elderly lady in tight, brightly colored pants. At San Francisco’s Union Square, purebred animals and their blue-blooded owners weave in and out of Chanel, Gucci and Hermes. And in Marshall Field’s on Chicago’s Magnificent Mile, well-groomed dogs wait in private dressing rooms in the couture department while personal shoppers assist favorite clients.

In upscale chain stores, boutiques and the mom-and-pops near you, dogs are going shopping. Although it’s still people who flash the cash and credit cards, canines are gliding down aisles with their owners in tow, brushing past merchandise, sniffing (for bargains, we presume) and seeing eye to eye with kids in strollers. They’re also gathering stares and glares from those who would never think of walking a pet through the front door.

It’s a phenomenon that seems to be growing from coast to coast, mostly in tony stores in outdoor shopping districts and malls. And even stores that ban dogs often find it’s a losing battle keeping them out.

What happened to No Dogs Allowed?

As pets grow more important in the lives of their owners, they are less likely to be left home to watch videos and more likely to be taken along for the ride, even if it’s to buy a fur coat. And, in this melting economy, stores are reluctant to turn anyone away at the door.

“Let’s be honest. We’re in a tough retail season,” says Stephen Zawistowski of the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. “Stores want to attract the shopper in the Mercedes SL500 and not Jed Clampett in a rusty truck with a half-breed Blue Tick coon hound. They recognize that customers can shop at home on their computer with their dog sitting at their feet or shop in a store with their dog by their side.”

It’s no secret among dog owners who pass by the Gap, Old Navy and the Body Shop that there are often complimentary biscuits stashed behind the counters. Saks Fifth Avenue takes dog bait to the next step: It lures pet lovers and their cold-nosed companions by stocking Oh My Dog! fragrance ($38 for 1.7 ounces), Louis Vuitton collars ($170) and Isabella Fiore pet carriers ($365).

Bloomingdale’s even hosts events for dogs – cats too – such as Santa photo sessions. Which isn’t to say that dogs don’t turn up at events clearly meant for humans. Like the large black poodle in a beaded cashmere sweater seen lapping from its owner’s champagne glass at a recent Bloomie’s fashion show.

Isn’t there a law, you might ask as you see dogs darting under clothes racks and sniffing floors near the cosmetic counters. Not really.

After overcoming her initial surprise (“There are dogs running around department stores?”), a state health department spokeswoman calmly explains that there’s nothing on the books to stop a dog from just looking, although state law does prohibit dogs from areas where food is being prepared.

Patty Patterson of Laguna Beach has taken Rhodey, a Rhodesian Ridgeback, into many a refined shopping spot. At Neiman Marcus, “one of the cosmetic ladies kisses Rhodey so much she leaves lipstick marks on his face.” At Tiffany’s, “an elderly lady who looks as if she could be Mrs. Tiffany looked stiffly at us at first then politely said to Rhodey, ‘My, aren’t you handsome.’ ”

Patterson and Rhodey aren’t shy about barreling past security. At South Coast Plaza, an enclosed mall in Costa Mesa that officially bans dogs, she tells the surprised guard in her most diplomatic commando voice: “I’m coming in.”

At dog-welcoming Bloomingdale’s in the outdoor Fashion Island in Newport Beach, Patterson does find a stopping point: “I just don’t know about this,” she says, standing at the base of an escalator with Rhodey’s taut leash in her hand. “He might get his toes pinched. I better take the elevator.”

On the way, they cross paths with shoe salesman Shannon Dixon, who bolts toward the dog, drops to one knee, pounds his chest to get Rhodey to press his paws against Dixon’s white dress shirt, and says in baby talk between licks to his face: “Do you want to buy some shoes?"

Later, Dixon says he loves dogs. And that’s not all. The day before he made a sale to a woman whose well-behaved Maltese sat sans leash on a burgundy velvet sofa while its owner walked around the shoe department testing new sandals.

Many owners of little dogs have long succeeded in discreetly toting them along on shopping trips, but there’s no hiding a German shepherd or a mastiff. Not only is the need for discretion disappearing, many owners say they shop with their dogs because, well, they can.

A dog’s life has traditionally been pretty well limited to the owner’s house and yard, with most outings for the sole purpose of exercise and enjoying the great outdoors. That’s changing, says animal expert and author Mark Derr, who lives in Miami Beach, where, as in Southern California, open-air malls have become parade grounds for people and their dogs. Across the United States, he says, people are following the lead of Europeans, who take their dogs everywhere.

Guide dogs and other special-service canine companions have paved the way in the U.S. for pet dogs in many public settings. Besides restaurants, nonworking dogs are kept at bay in grocery stores, post offices and hospitals.

Even though 38% of U.S. households have one or more dogs (slightly more than have a child), Americans have always been conflicted about man’s best friend, says Derr, who is writing a book on the history of canines. “We want them to behave just like people. When you get to the point where dogs are coming into department stores, you absolutely want them to behave.”

But sometimes dogs aren’t on their best behavior.

Derr cites the case of a woman whose guide dog turned out to be a kleptomaniac. The golden retriever used his jaws to pluck what he wanted from department store shelves and, unbeknownst to his owner, carried the items away.

But stealing isn’t the worst thing a dog can do in a store.

Neiman Marcus calls on its housekeeping staff when an accident occurs. At a Home Depot in Corona, unamused clerks who’ve cleaned up after dogs that have been let loose in the store note that the chore wasn’t part of the job description.

Then there’s the question of who, if anyone, is liable if things really go wrong: What if a store employee or customer slips and is injured in a dog-created mess? Or is bitten?

Elliott Block, a Los Angeles insurance attorney, says a victim who wants to sue for injury has to show that the storeowner ignored a complaint or could have “reasonably” anticipated the situation. “Dogs in stores are such a new concept that I doubt anyone could prove that a storeowner should have known to even look out for it,” he says.

Several animal organizations said that, to date, they had not heard of a case in which a storeowner has been sued over a dog-shopping related injury.

Many people who take their pets shopping say they’ve taken pains to make sure they know how to behave. The owner of the slobbery Saint Bernard Baloo says she carefully socialized her now 3-year-old dog and taught him shopping etiquette. In a Hallmark store where Marquez and Baloo shop, employees embrace dogs, literally, even though on one occasion they nearly had a dogfight at the checkout: a bulldog and a Sheltie were growling at each other while their owners stubbornly kept place in line.

Despite incidents like that, Marquez says many dogs are better supervised and better behaved than most small children on shopping trips. “We understand that we’re in the limelight, and we’ll do our best to shine.”

Her main worry? Safely steering 165 pounds of body mass and fur. She avoids tightly spaced gift stores where, she admits, when his tail starts wagging, her dog “can’t tell the difference between a Beanie Baby and a Hummel.”