Chico's Tell All LA Diary

 Chico As Guest Author

We are too bored (and boring) to do a blog at the moment so Chico has stepped in to provide his unique pitbullesque view of Los Angeles.  We will return to our authorship as soon as ANYTHING happens in our quest for the elusive liver.

Life as an International Bon Vivant

I have always yearned to travel internationally.  However, as a lowly Mexican street dog I recognized this was an impossible dream until fate intervened, ruined my young "Master's" liver, and sent me on a marvelous journey to the cultural heart of America-- Los Angeles.  The People Who Think They Own Me (ha!) decided that Alex could not possibly endure his trials without my steadying and reassuring presence so I was scooped up from my pedestrian life in Ajijic and transported to the home of the Stars.

I must say that I have been welcomed warmly.  Angelenos are insane for dogs and the more pathetic and worn they appear, the more they love them.  That is because rescue dogs have become "chic" and I am Chic (with a capital C).  With my marvelously scarred back and rapidly graying muzzle I have become an instant hit.  Plus, dogs are welcome EVERYWHERE in LA -- including some places they shouldn't be-- in my prudish opinion.  The other day I was sitting in the car at Ralph's Grocery while the humans shopped.  There, in front of the store, was a frothy, white, wooly little excuse for a dog sitting on top of a table while its human ate off the very table it was perched on.  Disgusting.  

The ends that Angelenos will go to in order to please their dogs is unbelievable to me.  In Mexico, we are fed chicken bones (REALLY, we can handle them) and SOMETIMES get to sleep in the house.  Well not my humans but others consider this being a good owner.  While driving down Ventura  the other day I counted nine doggie day cares, one doggie cosmetologist, three doggie obedience schools (there must be many ill-mannered creatures here) and my favorite-- the first Doggie Kitchen dedicated to the provision of organic, free range food for dogs.  My humans laugh at these "excesses" but I am waging a stealthy campaign to get them to procure of all these services for me. 

Still trying to get my humans to try the Kitchen For Dogs to procure my food.

While the humans have given you some lovely photos of the environs I shall try to illustrate LA from my perspective.  One would think that LA is an urban, paved and traffic jammed hell hole.  Well, that is true but I have shown my humans another side of the city as I quested for freedom and a good romp. It is quite surprising but Angelenos tolerate a variety of wild life that Mexicans would dispatch immediately if they wandered into town.  A case in point is rattlesnakes.  I was actually confined to a leash at one park because the prevalence of rattlesnakes was so high that unleashed dogs would surely die.  Well, perhaps the stupid ones I thought.  But then, while trying to murder the ground squirrels at Franklin Canyon, I came upon a huge gopher snake and all my ancient, irrepressible instincts took hold and I attacked.  Well, attempted to attack.  The Alpha human hauled me away while I strained with all my might to destroy the reptile and the Alpha human's mate screamed "Phobia #1, Phobia #1"  in horror.  

I could have had gopher snake for dinner if they hadn't stopped me!

And there are the coyotes.  While driving within the same Franklin Canyon park we encountered this coyote in broad daylight sashaying down the middle of the road.  It was flaunting the humans (which I endorse) but I wanted to leap from the car and teach it a little humility. The humans intervened yet again.  I mentioned the California Ground Squirrels.  They are everywhere here as attested to by the infinite number of holes and dirt mounds scattered anywhere there is a patch of earth. It is great fun to stick my nose in the holes, dig around and hopefully, terrorize them.  But even more fun is when the human walking with me breaks through the earth and tumbles into the now gaping burrow.  They really should watch their weight.  There is even a mountain lion in Griffith Park (named P-22) that is regarded as something of a pet by the neighbors.  Incomprehensible.

They let me look, but I couldn't "play" with the ground squirrels.

On the other side of the coin, there is Beverly Hills.  Ahhhh. Beverly Hills.  Where I should have been born and raised.  That or perhaps Pacific Palisades.  No, Beverly Hills for sure, definitely.  I cannot describe the variety of marvelous scents that are captured in their extensive, exquisite park. It is so beautifully manicured I even resist the urge to display my masculinity by dirt kicking after relieving myself.  One must rise to the occasion. It is here amidst the perfectly groomed and coddled Labradoodles that I receive the most sympathy and accolades.  This is not a population used to seeing "dogs in the rough" and they warm immediately to my story of human cruelty and my ultimate rescue and redemption. 

Here I am doing my happy dance.

You may ask: "How does he get the humans to take him to these wonderful places when they are consumed by the young "Master's" illness.  It is simple.  They desperately need levity and I provide it through a dramatic impression of a totally unsophisticated dog who is excited by the thought of a walk.  I, of course, am too sophisticated to normally stoop to such routines but I have seen it done.  Day after day, it reduces the humans to hysteria and then they take me on a new and wondrous adventure.  Such a small price to pay.  To get what I want.  While it is somewhat humiliating I shall include a video of it.  You may want to show it to friends who have a dog that needs more adventure.  

My young "Master" loves to spoil me!

Hasta pronto Chico Rico.