Daily Dabble: Haute Dog Summer – Because Apparently Your Pup Needs Pucci Too

The Scroll of Doom (aka My Gateway to Pucci Madness)

It always starts the same way. Me, sprawled on the couch at 11:47 p.m., baked, in pajama pants that look like they’ve been through three wars and a queso spill. The thumb of destiny, doomscrolling TikTok like the answers to life’s biggest questions are hiding behind a trending sound.

That night, it wasn’t aliens, or DIY kitchen hacks, or somebody unboxing $600 sneakers that looked suspiciously like bowling shoes. No, this night I was hit smack in the face with Pucci Girl Summer. And let me tell you, it was everywhere. The TikTok algorithm was like: “You know what Bud needs? Color. He needs a kaleidoscope straight to the retinas.”

So my For You Page turned into a Pucci print parade: girls twirling in psychedelic swirls, cocktails the color of sunsets, captions dripping with phrases like “jet-set chic” and “Capri vibes.” Everyone looked like they’d just walked out of a disco ball in Florence and into a yacht commercial.

Meanwhile, I’m in Massachusetts, where the closest thing to Capri vibes is a Dunkin’ with outdoor seating.

Bud vs. Pucci (Spoiler: Pucci Wins)

Now, I’m not immune to aesthetic trends. I lived through Cottagecore. I watched Coastal Grandma take over the internet. I’ve even dabbled in Normcore (translation: I never stopped wearing sweatpants).

But this Pucci thing? This was a whole other animal.

It’s like a Lisa Frank binder from 1997 got drunk on limoncello, hooked up with a disco ball, and gave birth to a lifestyle trend. And TikTok ate it up. Part of me laughed. The other part of me thought: damn, I could use some swirls in my life. But then the stoner imagination kicked in. And once that happens, there’s no going back.

What If Dog Owners Got Into This Too?

Because here’s where my brain always goes: if people are this obsessed with something, what happens when it leaks into the pet world? Like, if you’re dropping $400 on a scarf, what’s stopping you from buying your Pomeranian a matching Pucci-print vest?

Forget Pucci Girl Summer. I’m talking Haute Dog Summer. You’re not walking the dog anymore. You’re debuting the collection. The leash is designer. The harness is vintage. Even the poop bags? Limited edition. (Sold out instantly, resold on StockX for triple the price.)

The dog park isn’t a dog park anymore — it’s Milan Fashion Week with tennis balls.The starring role in this fever dream went to Kushie, my Brittany sidekick. For those who don’t know, Kushie is 40 pounds of bird dog energy packed into a cinnamon-and-white fur rocket. She’s emotionally intelligent, clingy as hell, and spends most of her time side-eyeing squirrels like they owe her money.

But in my Pucci-fueled vision? She wasn’t a goofy pup anymore. Oh no. She was Kushie the Couture Queen. I imagined her strutting through the backyard like it was Milan. Swirls swirling, Pucci prints blinding the neighbors, sunglasses so big she looked like she stole them from Elton John.

The other dogs froze mid-sniff like paparazzi at the Met Gala. Owners whispered: “Is that… is that Pucci?” And Kushie? Tossed her head like: “Please. It’s limited edition.”

The Kibble Crisis

But fashion has rules. And my imagination doesn’t let me off easy. So of course, in Haute Dog Summer, Kushie doesn’t just wear Pucci — she lives Pucci.

Which means the kibble bowl? Outdated. Off-brand. Offensive. Me, standing there in Crocs and a hoodie I’ve owned since Bush was in office: “Kushie, this is premium kibble. It’s chicken and rice. I even bought the bag with the golden retriever on it. That’s how you know it’s good.”

Kushie, in my vision, glances at the bowl, then back at me with the deadpan stare of a runway model who just got offered tap water: “Sorry, Dad. That doesn’t fit the brand aesthetic.” So what do I do? I lean in. I start plating her kibble like it’s a Michelin star entrée. Sprinkling parsley on top. Maybe a drizzle of olive oil.

Boom: Haute Dog fine dining. Her? She sniffs, crunches one piece, and walks away. Me? I just garnished dog food. I’m living a parody of myself.

Dog Park Fashion Week

Now let’s take this hallucination a step further. Dog parks? They’re no longer parks. They’re Fashion Week. Every owner is a stylist. Every Labrador is a runway model. You’ve got bulldogs in velvet tracksuits.Golden Retrievers in matching owner-dog Pucci swimwear.

A Pomeranian arriving in a stroller that looks like a Louis Vuitton pop-up shop. And the shade? The shade is brutal.“That harness? Sweetie, that’s last season.” “This is vintage, Brenda. Meanwhile, their dogs are just trying to eat goose poop off the grass.

The Influencer Arc (A Stoner’s Worst Nightmare)

In my spiral, Kushie doesn’t just dominate the dog park. She goes viral. She launches a TikTok page: @KoutureKushie.

Her unboxing videos get millions of views. She paws through tissue paper, side-eyes cheap stitching, and reviews Pucci prints like Anna Wintour in fur.

Her captions? Savage. “If your leash isn’t bespoke, don’t talk to me.” “Kibble? Only if it’s artisanal.” And me? I’m her assistant. The cameraman.

The unpaid intern. The guy sweating in the corner holding her latte (oat milk, duh). One day she posts: “POV: my owner thinks he’s in charge, but really he’s just my driver.” And it racks up 2.7 million likes.

Reality Check

But then — snap. Reality.

I blink, and Kushie’s not on a runway. She’s belly-up on the couch, snoring like a chainsaw, crumbs on her nose from stealing my pretzels. No Pucci. No runway. Just my goofy dog being her goofy self.

And me? Still scrolling TikTok, laughing at myself for spiraling this far down the fashion rabbit hole. Because let’s be real: dogs don’t care about trends. They care about snacks, belly rubs, and finding the stinkiest patch of grass to roll in. Pucci? Please. Kushie’s current look is “Taco Bell wrapper chic.”

The Stoner Philosophy Bit

But here’s where the smoke settles and I get all reflective.

Trends like Pucci Girl Summer blow up because they sell an escape hatch. They’re colorful, they’re absurd, and they’re fun. And maybe dogs in designer outfits are just the natural next step in us trying to laugh our way through a chaotic world. Because honestly? If your dachshund looks fabulous in swirls while you’re still in sweatpants… that’s comedy. That’s community. That’s TikTok gold.

Bud’s Final Puff of Wisdom

Haute Dog Summer is cute and all, but I don’t need my pup in Pucci — I just need her to stop eating socks and start finishing her kibble. Because at the end of the day, TikTok trends come and go. But the look of your dog refusing dinner because “it’s off-brand”? That’s forever.