Lately at the dog park, I am the lady with the little pack. Word got out that I’m a “Dog Trainer,” and apparently, a dog genie of whispering pines. Word got out like this. I think I had all the dogs except Ruby on stays and they have to do their name to get the ball. Or Gooey has to do his name to do something that’s not a ball. Then they go back to their stays.

A lady said, Wow, how’d you learn to do that? And I said, I’m a dog trainer. And the pines began to whisper. She’s a Dog Trainer.

Mostly I walk around with my trained dogs. If it’s a busy day at the dog park, Otterpop gets to drag a leash. Nobody whispered to her, Do Not Bite Mugsy, and this would be her wish. Bite the little f&%$ker. So that kind of trained. Or bite the 3,000lb grizzly bear-esque dog that wanders over on his own, in from the cul de sac. It’s a cul de sac kind of dog park. That was one big ass dog. Otterpop took one look at it and said, Bite it. Damn you, Otterpop. I know your every thought. And they are bad, black thoughts. Gutter thoughts. Don’t belong at the end of a cul de sac, where people have jeeps and boats and faded rvs parked in their spacious driveways, waiting to escape.

Ruby likes to just follow us around, she sticks close, and Gustavo alternates between playing with the little f&%$kers and the big poodle and then sometimes runs off to the bushes to just do something else, then comes back in when I call. He’s a really good boy. He likes to sit on the people laps whenever possible. There could never be another dog such as Gustavo. Ruby is so happy to walk slowly along in the grass, in the shade as much as we can. This is her thing, this is her best walk right now. It’s an amble. That’s her perfect speed.

Banksy has her ball. Her ball. Her ball. She has to do things like send across the park and run around the porta potty, or the backstop, or lie down, or left or right or beep beep beep or any of her tricks to get it, so hence the proof of pudding how I got the Dog Trainer name, I think. The through the legs is a good one. If only people knew, border collies, they just do this.

They’re a good group. Aside from Otterpop. The dogs and the people. The park is wedged between a playground and a skateboard bowl. It’s busy. The people are nice, they explain to me all the names of the dogs and things about them. Oh, that Cassie. She’s a live wire. They have all made sure to memorize my dogs’ names and don’t give Gustavo any treats. I hear one of the ladies tell this to another lady. Don’t give him a treat, he has something wrong with his liver. They all have tennis ball launchers, but their dogs don’t all fetch real fast.

Banksy tolerates all this like she’s been a dog park dog all her life. Dogs bark in her face, she doesn’t care. She’s seemingly bombproof at the dog park, so far. She kind of exists in a bubble. A german shepherd went charging after her today, and I just yell at her to lie down when I see him charging across the field. I’ve seen him before, I don’t think he’s dangerous, I just don’t think he’s that well behaved.

She does her sheep stalk, for the invisible sheep, and drops to the grass. German shepherd just goes away. We use Lie Down a lot at the dog park, whenever dicey dogs are around. Seems to confuse them when she just drops into a pancake in the grass, into her bubble of nothing else is there but the sheep. The ball. Her sheep.

I see the German Shepherd lady put his pinch collar back on, and lead him away. Sigh. Maybe she’ll sign up for a class. I have a new foundation class starting this Thursday, and a Friday one will start in June. I tell all the dog park ladies how much fun their dogs could have, learning tricks, how it will help their recalls and whatever else they want to help. Sign me up! one lady said today, as her 2 little dogs charged across the field to the swings, no intention of coming back, ever. Sign me up!