By Tucker Baackes
Greetings, humans! It’s your favorite canine here, checking in with my latest dlog update. (Get it? dog blog? Try to keep up, guys — your brains are bigger than mine, though I have some thoughts on quality over quantity when it comes to this particular match up.)
A lot has happened around here since I last last checked in from Martha’s Vineyard. My best human, John, moved from Philadelphia, another one of my past dlogging destinations, to Los Angeles, and he brought me with him — duh! My mom took the news hard and spent a lot of last summer dramatically hugging me and weeping while looking at my puppy pictures, but I reminded her that she spends about eight or nine months of the year out of the country — shouldn’t I get to do some traveling too? Plus, I like to be a pup that’s hard to get. If she wants to spend more time with this hot hunk of cocker spaniel, she’s just going to have to spend a little more time on the West Coast. Guess what? It’s working!
After some requisite time in Tucker Town — my new name for Los Angeles — mom planned a pup-friendly road trip from San Diego to Palm Springs, so that I could show my Aunt Kat and Uncle Ian around California a bit more. I for hours while they packed up, and was pretty disgruntled with my seating arrangement when we first hit the road. Nobody puts baby in ! But we quickly dropped Ian and his bags off at LAX so that I could have half the car to myself. Or maybe it was so he could visit friends in San Francisco and mom and Kat could have some girl time. I can’t remember the details.
Our first stop was , less than an hour after leaving Koreatown. My mom had been warning Kat about my usual modus operadi at dog parks, which is to stare at other dogs antagonizingly, look bored, and glare at my human for bringing me to such an awful place, so I decided to show her who was boss by having a totally great time.
At one point I trotted right off our towel and straight into the sea, and my mom nearly fainted, since I’m normally not a fan of swimming in non-pond water. What’s that about teaching old dogs new tricks? HA! I even sniffed a German Shepard AND a dachshund! I laugh in the face of canine-themed colloquialisms!
Mom was so happy to see my acting like a “real dog” she was nearly crying, and she promised to bring me here lots and lots in the future since it’s so close to home my new home. I was highly insulted to learn that dogs aren’t allowed on the Huntington Beach Pier, but I got revenge by shooting it constant dirty looks while we had lunch at and I greeted more of my fans — also known as the general public.
Then we hopped back in the convertible and hit the Pacific Coast Highway top down till Laguna, just a thirty minute drive away.
Believe it or not, dogs are not allowed on the sand in Laguna Beach during the day from June 1st until September 16th — we were just a few days ahead of the deadline. Had we been there before 8am or before 6pm I would have been welcome on a leash, but we chose to simply stroll along the cliffside path of the Heisler Park instead. After, we cooled off with frozen yogurt at , where everyone fawned over me as usual.
I wouldn’t exactly say it was eating trash out of the garbage bin or terrorizing aquarium fish at Petsmart, but our drive to San Diego was pretty cool.
An hour and a half later we hit San Diego. I insisted on none other than a fully pet-friendly rental, and mom delivered with a stay at one of Mission Beach apartments. She told me we’d be moving into an even swankier pad after two nights in this one, and that we’d be spending our four days in San Diego checking out the best dog-friendly restaurants, beaches, and shops that this city had to offer. I told her you bet we will.
In the meantime, I got down to the important business of appearing in each and every one of mom’s photos of our . Mission accomplished, just about.
Not only do Luv Surf rentals allow dogs, they specifically cater to them — I rolled up in Mission Beach to find a sweet bed (used only for naps, since obviously I only accept human beds for overnight slumbers), a fresh set of toys, doggie bowls and treats, a leash, and a detailed list of local spots sure to be Tucker-approved.
I made myself right at home.
That evening, we strolled down to the beach, where thanks to our Luv Surf guide we knew I was welcome on a leash after 6pm. Mom and Kat split a sneaky bottle of sparkling sangria (no glass is allowed, technically) while I kept a keen eye out for party poopers and posed for Snapchat fame.
It had been a long day, and I was dog tired. (Go ahead, make your jokes.)
Over the next few days, I fell floppy ears over paws for San Diego. Mission Beach is almost as adorable as me. Almost. Have I mentioned how many people compare me to a stuffed animal every day?
On our last day in San Diego, Ian flew down to meet us for the drive to Palm Springs, and I was pretty relieved — gotta have that boy and girl balance even, if you know what I mean. Otherwise we’ll just be listening to Spice Girls and indie women’s rock from the 90’s the whole car ride.
But anyway. Ian and mom went on the roller coaster at Belmont Park, and I was not happy about it. Not that I don’t love hanging with Kat at the ticket booth but I mean, are you kidding? You’re going to go and have all that human fun without me, after this beautiful trip we’ve spent together? Rude. I punished them by yelping and barking at the roller coaster the entire time they were on it.
So, yeah, that was San Diego. Mom says she’ll be writing a post of her own to fill you in on all the details like where we ate and where we stayed and what we did and all that blah blah, but I think I covered the important stuff. And by that, I mean me. Obviously.
Till next time,