The skill that lets a dog lie quietly under a pub table is never really built at the pub, it's built on an ordinary park bench on an ordinary Tuesday when you have nowhere to be and nothing to prove, and that single shift towards practising when you don't actually need it is what separates the owners who end up enjoying a relaxed pint with their dog from the ones who quietly give up on the idea altogether.
Before you teach it at all, though, it's worth being honest about who the skill is really for, because although your dog gains plenty from the walk before and the walk afterwards, they gain very little from the bit in the middle where they lie still while you eat. If your dog is anxious, reactive or easily overwhelmed, that's a fair reason to ask whether this is something worth chasing right now or whether their comfort simply matters more than your convenience, and there is no shame whatsoever in deciding that the pub can wait a while longer.
If you do want it, the kindest way to get there is to treat the whole thing like the levels of a computer game, where you can't drop straight in at level ten because you haven't yet learned the small skills that level one quietly teaches you. Level one here is simply stopping, so on your next few walks find a bench, sit down and do nothing for a few minutes, and notice whether your dog can switch off and wait beside you. If they can't manage two quiet minutes on an empty bench then they were never going to manage twenty in a busy beer garden, but if they can, you're ready to build up: an empty pub garden at a quiet hour, then a slightly busier one, then half a pint, then a pint and chips, always adding a little at a time.
Choose where you go with the same care, because there is a real difference between a pub that tolerates dogs and one that genuinely welcomes them, and in the early stages you want somewhere calm with only a dog or two about, so your dog can learn the skill before you add the distraction of potential playmates.
It helps to know that puppies often find this effortless and then lose it entirely in adolescence, so if your once-settled youngster suddenly can't cope, that is normal and the skill can be rebuilt. Sometimes the answer also turns out to be far more individual than any method suggests. One of Debbie's own dogs, now seven and deeply sensory, could never relax through treat-based waiting because he would simply grow hypervigilant waiting for the next one to appear, and what finally worked was steady, gentle pressure through his harness, much like a weighted blanket, which after years of trying earned them their first ever two pints and chips together. The lesson isn't the technique itself, it's that working out what your particular dog needs is really the whole job, and it can take a very long time.
The last piece is timing, because most of us remember this skill the moment the sun comes out and have forgotten it again by autumn, only to start from scratch the following year. Treat it like firework season, something you prepare for all year round rather than the week before you need it, and keep going through the winter even if it's only half a pint outside in the cold.
So take this as your reminder to start now: find your local dog-friendly pub, practise on the quiet days when nothing is riding on it, and advocate for your dog by asking for a corner table and a wide berth. It's a far tougher skill than it looks, and it deserves the time.