Sunday, March 08, 2009

A Girl and Her Dog, Out on the Town

As I don't have kids, I'm fortunate that in San Francisco, people treat their pets like children, so I don't feel too left out. And so it was that my rescue girl, Lucy (formerly Coconut), was invited to Doggy Happy Hour at a cool bar in the Mission called Doc's Clock. I highly recommend it -- it's homey, has shuffleboard (love me some shuffleboard, puts me in mind of Comegys Pub in Wilmington, Del., where you can get a drink served by one of the most talented photographers with whom I've ever worked). And, the proceeds went to Muttville, whose founder, Sherri Franklin, saved my little Peke from the mean streets of Oakland.

Lucy, who clearly had been bred and abandoned, had little interest in the other mutts. ("I know dogs," she told me. "They're only interested in one thing.") She preferred nibbling treats from her perch on the counter as the other canines nudged their noses into each other's buckeyes. Why is it, I have always wondered, that an animal that literally can smell something a mile away needs to get up close and personal to confirm the scent? "Yep, that's Spike. I thought so when I smelled him crossing the Golden Gate Bridge. But damn, what the hell has he been eating?"

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