Chapter Three
Stevie
City Park is usually well loved on nice summer days. Even on nice winter days. Today’s no different.
As Bean and I cross over Colorado Boulevard to the museum and then walk around it, we pass runners, walkers, bikers, families with little kids, skateboarders, and even a cat on a leash.
Bean trots beside me, ears and tail up, eyes bright. She peers warily at the pack of metallic wolf statues spread outside of the museum entrance, while I peer inside the glass doors at the two-story reconstructed T-rex skeleton in the lobby. The museum is closed for the day, but the dinosaur bones are visible through the windows and bathed in late afternoon light. Actually, I’m not even sure they’re real bones. I think it’s a model. Either way, I love that I can casually spot a T-rex while walking to the local park from our home.
Bean sniffs a tree for a sec, then hurries back to my side. She’s a great walker—not one of those pee-on-every-blade-of-grass type dogs. She seems to intuitively know when a walk is for her, meaning a stroll where she can luxuriate in soaking up every rich scent and interesting sight versus when it’s for me, like for exercise, or when we need to be somewhere.
Like now. I check my watch; we’ve got five minutes to find the group.
On the other side of the museum, the park spreads out. There’s Ferril Lake in the center of the park, a great view of the downtown skyline in the distance, and beyond that, the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. I have to pause for a second to admire. The buildings downtown are silhouettes, but I can make out the snow frosting the upper peaks of the mountains.
Mmm. Frosting.
I’d only had time for a protein bar and a banana, so no wonder I’m hungry.
Shading my eyes from the sun, I spot a group of dogs and humans in a wide stretch of grass between the museum and the lake. People walk and run along the trails around the water, but the field where this group gathers is fairly empty.
“C’mon, Bean. There they are.”
We speed walk over, and when we reach the group, stop to watch. The field is marked into a rectangle by long ropes tied to four orange cones at each corner. Six humans stand at one of the narrow ends of the rectangle and throw flexible discs short distances for their dogs to chase and catch. As we watch, a border collie that looks a lot like Bean leaps into the air to catch the disc thrown for her, while a brown and white shepherd-looking dog runs after his and misses. Bean pays close attention beside me.
A petite woman splits off from the group and comes our way. She has long, glossy brown hair, trim legs that are perfectly showcased in cut-off denim shorts, and she’s wearing a T-shirt with a logo on it for a company called Hyperflite. Sunglasses and a visor cover her face, but I can tell at a glance she’s very pretty. She greets me with a smile.
“Hi, are you here for the Denver Disc Dogs club?”
I nod and wave. “I’m Stevie, and this is Bean. I saw your posting in Nextdoor.”
“Oh, great! I’m glad those things work. It’s hard to tell sometimes, you know? I’m Emmy, the captain of the club. My dog Meadow is a border collie, too. Jude is warming her up for me.” She points to the dog I saw flying across the field a minute ago. She’s bringing a frisbee back to a cute Latino guy. He’s lean and muscular, with messy black hair and wearing long camouflage shorts and flip flops.
“Has Bean ever played with a disc before?” Emmy asks.
“No. But I think she’ll like it.” I laugh. “She loves chasing things—like my neighbor’s chickens—and she has plenty of energy to burn.”
Emmy grins. “Got it. Before we started the club, Meadow almost got me kicked out of my apartment. She was so wild.” She’s about to say something else, I think, when her eyes fix on something behind me.
It’s Logan. He slows from a jog to a walk, his tan skin glowing in the sun. As I turn back to Emmy, I notice she can’t quite tear her gaze away from him. I don’t blame her. Even soaked in sweat, he’s a handsome guy. I introduce him to her as my best friend and housemate.
“It’s so nice to meet you both,” Emmy says with a sweet smile. “Come on over, and we’ll get started with some drills. You can watch for a while, and then I’ll show you a few ways to get started with Bean’s training. Did you happen to bring a disc?”
I shake my head. “No, sorry. I saw the post yesterday.”
“No problem. You can borrow one of mine this week to try out. If Bean likes it, I’ll give you a list of good brands. She won’t know what to do with the disc at first, of course, but I’ll bet with a week or two of training at home, she’ll be ready to fly.”
We follow Emmy over to the group, and she makes some quick introductions. Bean wags her tail and sniffs at the other dogs, who pant and sniff her back. Emmy speaks to the group. “Why don’t we do a little demo to get things started? Show Stevie, Logan, and Bean what they can look forward to.”
Logan and I step back as the rest of the group stands at a rope line. Then, one by one, they throw their discs toward the far end of the rectangle. The dogs tear off after them, some catching the disc as it comes down, and some missing it. Meadow and one other dog are able to leap up to catch the discs in midair. They immediately bring them back to their humans, and stand, staring at them, tails wagging, until the disc is thrown again. Emmy turns music on through a portable speaker, and the demo starts to feel more like a performance than a training. Bean whines, probably jealous that the other dogs run free.
The humans throw the discs in a choreographed way, and most of the dogs wait, and watch carefully for their time to run. A few seem distracted, wandering away to sniff something in the grass or leaving the rectangle all together, forcing their humans to chase them.
After a couple of minutes of the throwing and catching, Emmy hands her disc to Jude. “So that was throw and catch, one fun disc event, and this is another. It’s called freestyle.”
Jude drops three discs at his feet and holds one more out with a straight arm for Meadow to jump up and grab. She gives it back to him, he lunges, and she runs between his legs a few times. He twists one way, and she runs the other, and he tosses the frisbee for her to leap and catch, then he lunges again, leans forward to pick up another disc and she runs up his outstretched back leg and along his spine to jump and grab it when he tosses it into the air in front of her.
Logan and I clap as Emmy turns the music off and the group rewards the dogs with treats. Bean yips a few times, looking more than ready to get started.
Emmy smiles. “That was a taste of what you and Bean can do if you join. And if you both like it, of course.”
“That was incredible,” I say to Jude. “How long did it take for her to learn that?”
“Thanks.” He smiles and fluffs Meadow’s fur. “A few years. I was the slow one. Meadow is Emmy’s dog, but we’ve been friends for a while, so I work with her, too.”
“Some of us have been training for longer than others,” Emmy says, “but within a few weeks, a dog is usually able to start catching short throws, and with consistency, the rest comes.”
She speaks to the group again. “Why don’t you guys work on your distance throws, and I’ll help Stevie, Logan, and Bean get started with a few activities.”