Many years ago, I used to visit a betting shop. One day I took my German Shepherd Dog, Brett with me.
In the middle of the room in the betting shop was a large table. Brett was possibly thinking we were in the veterinary clinic, where he always jumped onto the examination table. Well Brett saw the table as we entered in one bound he was on top of it.
The half dozen men sat around it, writing their bets for the day scattered with screeches and a little swearing, as Brett surveyed the scene, happily wagging his tail.
We were banned from the bookies for a few days. Then he had to be tied up outside if I took him with me.