The most extravagant things L.A. people do for their dogs

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Pet parent. Fur baby. Doggy daycare.

Since the mid-2010s, these monikers have adorned myriad T-shirts and tote bags — like quotes from a classic sitcom. But in modern L.A., they’re no joke.

In Beverly Hills, retirees push their toy poodles in strollers. In Eagle Rock, millennials dine with their lapdogs. When these dog owners speak about their companions, the word “baby” just rolls off the tongue.

The classification of dogs as children has long been controversial. It’s even been tested in the legal sphere.

While the U.S. does not yet have national laws like the U.K.’s or France’s that qualify animals as “sentient beings,” in California, dogs as of a 2019 law are eligible to have their well-being considered in divorce proceedings.

At the time of the bill’s signing, its sponsor, former Assembly member Bill Quirk said dogs were more than property: “They are part of our family.”

Such was the consensus among the L.A. dog parents whom The Times recently asked the following question: “What is something you can’t believe you do for your dog?”

Here are the 10 over-the-top answers we received. (Be sure to share your own unhinged dog parent behaviors in the comments section below the story.)

Becca Nelson and Sadie, the frequent flier

Becca Nelson’s 12-year-old dog Sadie may have more frequent flier miles than some of L.A.’s finest management consultants combined.

For years, Sadie, a Havanese-shih tzu mix, has traveled nearly every weekend with Nelson, who co-owns the production company Big Light Studios. Recently, Nelson and Sadie were in San Francisco filming the city’s annual Tap Festival.

“She’s just along for the ride,” Nelson said, dubbing Sadie “the business dog.”

At times, finding dog-friendly accommodations can be dicey, Nelson added. She and Sadie tend to have the most trouble in the South, where people aren’t as “dog progressive.”

But, according to Nelson, dog-free establishments often cave upon meeting Sadie, who prefers human company to the canine variety.

At Bluff Creek Dog Park in early July, the shaggy senior kept to herself, lounging in the shade while other pups zoomed in and out of view. Perhaps a stomach full of Nelson’s mother’s strawberries-and-cream french toast weighed the dog down. Or maybe it was the crab legs she ate a few days before.

“She has expensive taste,” Nelson laughed, kneeling down to tousle Sadie’s fur.

Ellena Whitfield and Zero, the demanding ‘diva’

Ellena Whitfield, a Westchester-based project manager, worked from Bluff Creek Dog Park in early July as her 1-year-old dachshund Zero scampered around with a chew toy dwarfing his snout.

The day’s outing constituted Zero’s daily “enrichment,” Whitfield said. Other days, the project manager will play with her pup at home or throw a few treats in a snuffle mat. (Whitfield recently read that just 30 minutes of sniffing for a dog is equivalent to around an hour’s walk in terms of physical and mental stimulation.)

A few days before their park outing, Zero gave Whitfield a scare when he stopped eating his kibble. Turns out, the dog was just being picky, as he later scarfed down a bougie natural formula.

“He’s kind of a diva,” Whitfield said. When Zero wants to cuddle, she added, nothing gets in his way.

“If I’m sitting reading a book, he’ll come and just lay right here,” she said, gesturing to her chest.

Mari Ostendorf and Mika, the shower-sleeper

Mari Ostendorf, a 20-plus-year Santa Monica resident, sat on a bench at Bluff Creek Dog Park, her dog Mika perched next to her.

Although they’d been at the park for nearly an hour and a half, Mika had yet to interact with another dog. She seemed content beside her mom.

The 3-year-old mixed-breed was originally named Myrtle, after the Muggle-born witch of Hogwarts, but Ostendorf often calls her “Velcro.” Why? “Because she sticks so close to me,” Ostendorf said.

In drastic contrast to her bare-bones rescue puppy life, Mika in her Santa Monica townhouse enjoys full couch privileges, as well as a human-sized dog bed that easily accommodates Ostendorf’s husband and two daughters.

During last year’s Fourth of July fireworks, Mika’s owners hauled her dog bed into their tiled shower, which “insulates her from the noise,” Ostendorf said.

There, she sleeps almost as soundly as in Ostendorf’s bed.

Arielle Bernstein and Jane Doe, the extroverted rescue

Jane Doe was alone outside BMO Stadium when Tony Faase found her. He’d been searching for another rescue pup he’d passed earlier when he saw her, shaking in the middle of the street.

As Faase drove by, he flung open the passenger-side door, and the dog hopped in — no hesitation.

“Don’t be mad at me,” he told his wife Arielle Bernstein when he got home. The couple already had five rescue cats; they scarcely had room for a 40-pound Labrador-pit bull mix on top of that.

Weeks later, Bernstein was making the twice-a-day trek to Playa Vista’s Bluff Creek Dog Park, where Jane Doe rolled around with a group of mutts in early July. As they nibbled and play-snarled at her, the pup lay on her back, wiggling in glee.

Out on the turf, she looked nothing like a rescue.

“I don’t know what her story was,” Bernstein said, “but she’s a loving, loving girl.”

Tina Khorram and Mini, the hero with a heart murmur

When Tina Khorram shelled out almost $4,000 for a pure-bred, toy-sized Maltese, she figured her tidy sum would rule out any possibility of an ailing dog.

But when Khorram’s husband took Mini the Maltese to get microchipped, the vet broke the news: The pup had a heart murmur.

“Take her back,” the vet told him. “She’s not going to survive.”

Khorram didn’t want her 5-year-old daughter Valentina to endure the grief of losing a dog so young, so she contacted Mini’s Las Vegas breeder about returning her. The breeder told Khorram’s family they could exchange Mini for another dog, but suspecting he would put the pup down, they held onto her.

Five years later, Mini sat on Khorram’s lap, her disability nearly imperceptible — and in any case eclipsed by her purple-dyed tail.

While Mimi seemed unaffected by her malady, Khorram’s voice was tinged with exhaustion. The summer is the toughest for her, she said, because every vacation comes with the insurmountable task of finding accommodations for Mini.

“That’s my problem, because most doggy daycares won’t take her,” Khorram said. “So I have to figure it out.”

For Mimi, Khorram even endures the regular embarrassment of being hounded by fellow “dog-friendly” hotel guests about her yappy pup.

Alana Giordano and Philly, the social club member

When Alana Giordano’s neighbor first told her about Dog Ppl, a members-only dog park in Santa Monica, she found the concept absurd.

“That seems crazy to spend money on,” Giordano thought to herself. But that thought was quickly followed by another: “Why not sign up and see how it goes?”

The application process was streamlined but rigorous. Upon his first visit to the park, Philly, Giordano’s Chihuahua-terrier mix, was screened and observed by a team of trained “rufferees” — tasked with determining whether prospective pups were well-suited for the space.

Philly made the cut, and for the last couple years, he and Giordano have made regular trips to the posh pup club. On slower workdays, Giordano brings her laptop to the space, which is equipped with Wi-Fi as well as a coffee and alcohol bar.

“It’s a little bit L.A.-ish,” Giordano said. But she maintained that the $80 monthly fee — a discount she was grandfathered into, $40 below the current starting rate of $120 a month — for her is money well spent.

“Once you go here, you never go back,” Giordano said.

Dorothy Grillo and Olive, the baby of the family

Next to Dorothy Grillo’s glass of sangria, whipped cream spilled over the lip of a small paper cup. At first glance, the treat appeared to be a cup of soft serve, soon to be enjoyed by Grillo.

But as the Long Beach resident pulled a froth-dipped biscuit stick from the cup, she brought it not up to her mouth but down to her lap, where her Chihuahua mix Olive sat patiently. The dog, who had been calm up until that point, excitedly lunged for her dessert.

“Ooh, I love this! This is fun!” Grillo said, impersonating Olive as the dog licked away.

Olive’s treat, the pup cup, goes for $3.50 at Monty’s Dog Beach & Bar in Long Beach, where Grillo and her husband Chris Ayala stopped in for a drink in early July. Other items on the beachside bar’s dog menu included a “dogtini” (unseasoned ground beef, beef broth and pork chomp sticks) and a “pupuccino” (frothed milk sprinkled with spirulina, whipped cream, homemade biscuits).

Monty’s is a favorite spot for Grillo and Ayala, who recently moved to Long Beach after deciding they wanted to spend their 50s in a more “relaxed” environment than L.A. proper.

“We didn’t have kids together,” Grillo said, “so we’re just like, ‘This is our baby.’”

On top of her pup cups, Olive boasts a complete wardrobe of dog clothes and a full basket of toys at home. Grillo and Ayala had to restock after they tossed their late dogs’ things during their move.

“Pretty much every time I go to the store, I get her a new toy,” Grillo said. “It’s been so nice to do that again.”

Ashley Parrish and Riley, the ‘foodie’

Ashley Parrish’s Australian shepherd Riley is a dog of taste. That was probably inevitable, with two chefs for parents.

Parrish has worked for a decade as a line cook at Disneyland, while her partner Ben Hanson has spent six years as a chef in the wedding industry. Both regularly test new concoctions on Riley.

“She’s spoiled rotten,” Parrish said of the young pup, then quickly corrected herself: “Not spoiled, well-loved.”

While other dogs might be content to mooch off kitchen droppings, Riley prefers to eat from her own plate of human food. Her regular order at SteelCraft Long Beach is a steamed rice and chicken bowl, topped with an over-easy egg. (She also accepts fried eggs.)

“She’s a foodie for anything but dog food,” Parrish said. “Greek whole fat yogurt — can’t get enough of it. She’s licking it right off the spoon.”

Alejandra Gonzalez and Franklin Bean, the preschool graduate

Just inland from Rosie’s Dog Beach, Franklin Bean, a 10-month-old mini dachshund, greeted passersby with tail wags and belly rolls.

He used to be an infamous biter, but a few sessions at the Zoom Room, an indoor dog training gym, helped wean him off, said Alejandra Gonzalez, Franklin Bean’s owner.

“It was like preschool for pups,” Gonzalez said of the training facility. There, dogs can learn basic commands, how to respond to their name and even how to socialize.

Gonzalez paid $300 for the program, which consisted of four months of weekly training sessions. By the time Franklin Bean graduated, he was leagues more regimented — and more confident.

At the beach in early July, the dachshund approached dogs 10 times his size with ease. Some of his swagger, it seemed, was drawn from the red baseball cap he sported. (He got that at the SoCal Wienerfest.)

“He just wants to be everyone’s friend,” Gonzalez said.

Makoto Mizutani and Penny, the senior citizen

When Makoto Mizutani and Ben Luddy moved into their second-story unit in San Pedro 10 years ago, their Belgian Malinois Penny was just a puppy. At that time, they were hardly worried about her struggling with the trek upstairs.

Now 12 years old, Penny requires leash support to get up and down the steps. So when Mizutani and Luddy received an eviction notice a few months ago, they weren’t gutted. It just felt like time to move on.

“Every pet owner thinks, like, ‘OK, how can I make my dog’s life more comfortable as they get older?’” Mizutani said. In their case, the answer was clear: finding a one-story home that would allow Penny to get around on her own.

The couple ended up finding a property in Pomona, which they are planning to move into in late July.

At times, Mizutani worries about sounding high-maintenance for basing her choice of a home so heavily on Penny. But ultimately, the dog is family.

“We talk a lot about accommodating design for people,” Mizutani said. “That totally extends — should, I mean — to pets, especially larger pets,” she said.