I am holding in the palm of my hand the smallest work of exquisite, exotic art that I’ve ever seen. People pass me by, staring curiously.
My dog and I are outside the Westlake Village dog park, so some of the other dog owners are giving me an odd look as if to say, “Is that a pile of desiccated dog poop she’s balancing in her hand? Ick!”
You can’t blame them. Until I bent to scoop up this anomaly, it did look suspicious at first glance, being brown and shreddy and clumpy.
On closer examina...