She Loves London

Category: Dogs

10 Excellent Dogs I’ve Seen Hanging Around in Central London

Like most people who live and work in central London, I pretty much live for other people’s dogs.

I think it’s because even though you know that theoretically there must be dogs around this city somewhere, you just don’t expect to see them.

When I do see one, sometimes I forget that these dogs belong to other people. Within a few seconds I’ve made a beeline, reached out my hand, made a “c’mere! doggooohelllloooo” sound and beckoned for the dog to come closer. I know it’s not appropriate, I know that dog has no business being on my lap. But it’s there now, and it’s happy, and I’m happy, and anyway leave it here for a moment eh, I just want to be its friend.

But to be honest, London really does have some A+ dogs. It was pretty hard to whittle it down, but here are some of the best ones I’ve seen.

1. Wastedog at Notting Hill Carnival

Wastedog came to Carnival to rave, and Wastedog came to get messy. She wanted to drink beer, skank out in front of a soundsystem and eat curried goat. She’s done that. Mission accomplished. She peaked three hours ago and doesn’t even care who knows it.

2. Very Tired Dog who absolutely did not want to be on the No 38 bus

This dog literally yawned the whole way to work. It just sat there, on its owner’s lap, doing massive yawns and thus lending more evidence to the theory that dogs are basically humans who cannot deal with being up and out in public at 9am any more than you can.

3. Dogs who may or may not belong to royalty in N16

No one’s saying that HRH the Queen does her shopping on Stokey Church Street, no one is saying that at all. There is no proof, and anyway it’s not plausible that the Queen of England would ever go up to Clissold Park and see the goats and then stop by the butchers to pick up some sausages for a fry up on the way home. There is no evidence that Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II has ever done that. Not. at. all.

4. This dog outside Dalston Argos who accurately sums up how everyone around here feels on a Sunday morning

Literally. Someone get me a fucking Berocca.

4. Granary Square fountain dog who will never be ready to go home, ever

This dog was there when we arrived, and this dog was still there when we left. This dog had been there for hours. This dog is probably still in the fountains at Granary Square in Kings Cross; trying to catch all the water, eyes gone zany from the flashing lights. Its owners gone now, reduced to husks.

6. This beautiful bus puppy who matched their collar with the cover of White Teeth

How does it feel to see a bull terrier that 100% put in more effort towards matching their outfit to a Zadie Smith novel than you did today?

7. Shop Dog whose retrieval skills are entirely wasted on the Covent Garden branch of Mountain Warehouse

For gods sake, won’t someone let that dog fetch the matching hat and gloves?

8. Dog in Viva Dalston who will definitely finish off anything you don’t eat

I am very much all for dogs in eating establishments, but if anyone has mastered the art of ignoring a pup who has nailed looking extremely cute and is standing with a quizzical stance just over your friend’s shoulder while you try to eat nachos and quesadillas, please let me know.

9. Bubble dog who will take your hand off* if you come any closer

All hail this friendly very laid back sausage dog whose job it was to guard** the belongings of a couple who spent their Sunday afternoon making giant bubbles in Kings Cross.

*lick
**lie down next to

10. Dog who will just wait here until you come back

I think if there’s one thing London dogs have over normal dogs, it’s patience. I mean, there’s a lot of waiting around in this city. For buses. For tubes. Under pub tables while their owners get through a bottle of wine. This one’s an old hand, he knew the drill. Brunch first, walk later. He is a Good Dog.

If this was Buzzfeed, this post would end with a “which dog are you” quiz, but this isn’t Buzzfeed and my name’s not Santa so instead, please send me your favourite dogs. There are also lots more dogs on my Instagram.

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9th February 2017
French Bulldog Parties and Other Stuff You Find in Regent’s Park

It is officially “park weather”.

Park Weather is when London pretends to be summer for like a day.

Park Weather means you leave the house even though it’s your official day of rest, only to find yourself sporadically whipped by gusts of wind that leave you shivering on the grass, wrapped in your portable tartan picnic blanket, looking longingly at the part of sky where the sun used to be because your bedroom window lied and it’s still absolutely bloody freezing.

You know, Stupid Park Weather.

Classic “park weather”

All it takes is one hint of sunshine and we’re out.

Lining the aisles of Tesco Metro clutching cans of gin-in-a-tin and a pack of Pringles, frantically yelling “SUN’S OUT, LET’S GO TO THE PARK, ASSEMBLE, ASSEMBLE” into our phones and wondering whether to wear a waterproof coat over all our ambitiously summer-like clothing.

And so I found myself on a bench in Regent’s Park at the weekend, dropping location pins into a Whatsapp chat and awaiting the arrival of my mates Em (human) and Buster (dog), a bag of tubular supplies at my feet and the wind…

Oh, the wind.

Ear malfunction

It was while I was considering the true meaning of the acronym BST when my phone rang, and a voice said:

“Hey so I’m near where you are, but have just stumbled upon what appears to be a French Bulldog convention, and there’s about 50 dogs and their owners just standing about having a chat. Want to meet here instead?”

…to which I replied “What yes where?” and within minutes, my Regent’s “Park Weather” Day Out had begun in the best way possible.

With loads of French Bulldogs having a massive bulldog party.

That’s right my friends, London’s population of Frenchies had gathered for their monthly en mass walk in Regent’s Park.

There were loads of them. All in one place.

Playing and stuff.

It was…beautiful.

Obviously, at the time we didn’t know it was a regular monthly thing.

To us it was just a huge, random gathering of exactly the same sort of dog, like a magical dream, so we just sort of stood around watching them for a while, a bit baffled, not really knowing what was going on and saying things like

“what the hell”

“I don’t understand”

and

“look that one’s wearing a stripy jumper”

Eventually we dragged ourselves away from the bulldogs.

There were other things vying for my attention, such as the fact that Regent’s Park also seemed to be attracting a lot of people with wheels for feet.

I’m not sure when it became ok to rollerblade again in public, but I saw one person doing it in Old Street the other day and then this, so it’s safe to say after years in 90s exile, wheelyfeeting around the place is quite possibly “back”.

I wasn’t sure how to feel about this turn of events, but to be fair, at the time I was preoccupied with how the conversation went before this couple left the house that day.

“No, you take the blades today. I’ll walk. Slowly. Away from you.”

Another thing I noticed was some fairly ambiguous topiary.

I’m assuming it’s someone’s job to be the Royal Parks Custodian of Foliage, which means someone is responsible for the fine feat of bushy engineering below.

Say what you see folks, just say what you see.

But then came the surest sign of all that London Park Weather was in session.

A moment’s revered silence please, while we all stand back and commend this man for his choice of trousers.

So pink.

So Sunday.

So very Park Weather.

Oh, Park Weather. We love you. Welcome back.

Long may you continue, all the way until at least 6pm tomorrow.

14th April 2015
There’s Loads of Dogs on Hampstead Heath. Loads.

Last Sunday I went to Hampstead Heath for a walk.

Despite what a lot of people will have you believe, there’s actually no point in going to Hampstead Heath unless you mega like dogs.

Either that or you should probably own a dog, or want to talk to dog owners about their dogs, or want your dog to meet someone else’s dog so you can say how alike they look then watch them cavort and tumble and nod with feeling when one of them leaps into a pile of fox poo, which’ll definitely happen because they’re dogs and that’s the canine equivalent of going to Alton Towers.

Your dog looks like my dog

You could theoretically go to Hampstead Heath without wanting to do any of those things.

But why would you want to?

As the non-dog owning folk who once attempted to eat a hearty picnic spread in front of my Labradors once discovered (while I half-heartedly yelled “Charlie, ELLIE, no, leave it, oh…bugger. SORRRRRYYYYY” across the field)… it’s just not worth it.

My dog will probably eat your picnic. Sorry.

I know what you’re thinking.

Even if you didn’t like dogs, you could still go for the views, yeah? Eat some cake at Kenwood House? Do a nice walk? Parliament Hill?

What’s that, kites? You’ve got a new kite? Want to feel like you’re in the countryside, in London?

Let me make this clear.

I’m warning you. There’s no escaping them.

The hound-shaped influx starts before you even get there, especially if you go to Hampstead by Overground or Tube.

Either way, you’re pretty much guaranteed to see some sort of wolf derivative, or at the very least a chihuahua that looks suspiciously like its owners somewhere along the way.

This time on the Northern Line, I encountered a tiny small little bear.

And by encountered, I mean located and zoned in on the empty seat beside her like a ravenous hawk, because there is nothing better than sitting next to a dog on the tube.

But that’s just the warm up.

As soon as you leave the tube station at Hampstead, they’re everywhere.

Seriously, you can’t move for dogs in this part of London.

I think this is because everyone has enough money to buy big houses – proper ones with stairs (stairs!) and stuff – and therefore can easily accommodate Proper Sized Dogs into their life plan.

You don’t really get that in Dalston, where life plans generally stop at “should I eat eggs for breakfast today”.

It’s also a good place to go on Sunday if you have a hangover.

All the animals running around will appease the anxious, vulnerable, life-questioning feeling of dread you’re currently experiencing, but if that doesn’t work then the Heath is also conveniently surrounded by loads of really, really good pubs.

And guess what?

Most of those have loads of dogs in too.

Some pubs quite frankly go above and beyond the call of duty, like the Spaniard’s Inn.

This pub is pretty well known for loads of reasons, Dickens and Keats and stuff, but its most notable feature is allowing your dog to have a shower before dinner.

Anyway this time we went to the Flask in Hampstead, and took Buster with us.

Buster is my friend Emily’s dog and he’s basically well cool.

Case in point: this was his face when we told him that we’d managed to book a table in the one bit of the pub where dogs weren’t allowed, which meant he would have to sit on one side of the threshold (dark wood), while we consumed vast quantities of red wine and beef on the other (light wood).

In case you can’t read dog expressions, this one is “sod that.”

All in all, going to Hampstead Heath on a Sunday is an excellent idea.

But only if you like dogs.

If you don’t, then honestly. It’s Sunday. What are you thinking? Just stay in bed.

8th March 2015