I would never be seen with a dog in my purse, a string of rhinestones strung around her neck, feeding her Fiji from the bottle; I'm just not that kind of girl. I promise. So why do I find myself owning a dog roughly the size of my purse, with a turquoise collar reflecting the sun in its tiny, cheap stones? I absolutely draw the line with the water though. No can do.
Meet Mr. Darcy. She's a pretty good dog, except for all the barking and her unfortunate dislike for anything shorter than me. T isn't exactly that kind of dog owner either. But then again, here I am, actually writing a post that was supposed to be about our trips to recent dog parks and instead, all I'm doing is writing about my pooch.So anyway, T and I visited a couple dog parks. Wow, that was anticlimactic.
In all seriousness, though, we visited a dog park located somewhere in Silver Lake last night with our canine. We stumbled across it in our forays to find Echo Park. After enough driving, we found our way, but not before indulging in some Tacos Arrizas (just putting what the neon sign said) and getting rear-ended by a guy who wasn't paying attention. The actual dog park was sweet. It was separated into small and large sections and Darcy even played with a few of the others. It was like watching her at school.Today we went to a dog park over on Laurel Canyon, but there's less to say about it, except for the fact that the day was unbelievably beautiful, the sky a deep, rich blue and all the dogs waggling their tales, showing off how happy they are. Summer's finest.
