When a guest entered carrying a Gucci tote containing two miniature terriers poking their inbred heads out of their couture prison, and told the hostess that they were “service dogs,” we all stared, dumbfounded.

Nobody stopped him from being seated at his table with his family. He ate a full course dinner. Then toured the mansion with his pets.

Clearly, this flagrant disregard for health code standards irritated me. But I believed it was neither my place, nor my duty to mention it.

And management chose to ignore it as well, rather than cause a scene during a busy festive holiday Saturday.

It made me question though, what I like to call in the name of service.

If indeed some of my acts of charity or generosity have more self-serving intentions.

Or if I have committed a greater disservice to myself by lying about truths I choose not to see.