‘My dog is natural. Your truck and your gun are not natural.’ : Poisoning Puppies in the Park

There are roughly 30 million dogs in the United States, and even as we sit here contemplating this enormous revelation, about 15 million of them are being thrown out of a park somewhere. Mutts are getting the boot right along with miniature schnauzers and Brittany spaniels with skulking schipperkes.

Despite the fact that Canis familiaris has been man’s best friend for 10,000 years, he is under relentless attack by those who hate the very sight of his waggy little tail, which helps explain why, for instance, the tiger shark has never gone out of its way to curry man’s favor. Look what it’s gotten the dog.

There is no better example of this than in Laurel Canyon Park, which sits among the homes of the precious people abiding in the hills above Studio City. They have gone to war against dogs to the extent that someone has scattered supposedly deadly dog biscuits among the pearlies everlasting to decrease the local canine population.

To paraphrase satirist Tom Lehrer, they are out poisoning puppies in the park.

The problem is rooted in an effort to build a children’s playground in the four-acre site off Mulholland Drive.

Dog owners want the park left in its natural state and worry that construction of a playground today could lead to condos tomorrow, a not unreasonable hypothesis given the avaricious nature of the average land speculator.

Children-owners respond that dogs are not only dangerous but leave do-do on the lawn. Although children may bite, they leave no do-do.

This has led to a good deal of screaming and cursing and crying and barking, a familiar means of communication among neighbors during times of crisis. And then things got really rough with the toxic dog biscuit business.

The threat so enraged City Councilman Joel Wachs that, like MacArthur returning to the Philippines, he instantly went to the park in person and issued a press release. The only response tougher than that is a full-blown speech. We pray God it never comes to that.

I stopped by the park one misty morning thereafter to see for myself what was happening in the Great Doggie War. A half-dozen dogs were there with their owners. The dogs were placid enough but the owners were growling and baring their teeth.

“We’re waiting for the raid of the dog rangers,” said free-lance photographer Peter Ness sourly.

He was referring to “sweeps” by animal control officers. They were ordered by Wachs to clamp down on animals without leashes. A sweep is the canine equivalent of a sortie by the Israeli Air Force over South Lebanon.

“The officers told me my Labrador retriever might be vicious,” said film director Elliot Silverstein, among whose movies is the celebrated “Cat Ballou.” “They’re so vicious they couldn’t be trained as war dogs by the Coast Guard. They don’t attack, they kiss.”

Eleanor Mondale mosied up. She is the daughter of what’s-his-name, the Democratic candidate for president last time around. Eleanor is a working actress. I don’t know what he’s doing.

“There are 531 parks in Los Angeles and 22 rangers,” she said. “On weekends, the rangers leave their own parks and come out here to harass us.”

Well, actually, 450 parks and 25 rangers, and they don’t all come to Laurel Canyon on the weekends. But what the hell. That’s closer than her daddy got during the entire 1984 campaign.

“A wave of anti-doggism is sweeping America,” Silverstein said thoughtfully.

Ness recalled that a week ago two “dog commandos” ordered a man to leash his dog. The man had been tossing a frisbee to his German shepherd puppy. He looked at the animal control officers and walked away.

“Apparently they radioed for backup,” Ness said. “In a few moments, there were four LAPD black and whites here. He decided he’d better leash his dog. Acquiescence through massive force.”

I know the feeling. I was walking on a fire trail of Topanga State Park once with my dog Hoover. A ranger roared up in his pickup. He had a .38 at his hip.

“Dogs aren’t allowed here,” he said without preamble.

“Why not?” I demanded.

“They upset the natural balance,” he said.

“My dog is natural,” I said. “Your truck and your gun are not natural.”

For a moment, I thought he might shoot me. I left before he had a chance.

“Here they come,” Silverstein was saying at Laurel Canyon. The dog commandos. Everyone either leashed his animal or shoved him in a car.

Silverstein approached an officer. He said he wanted to train his dog Taffy to come to him.

“It’s OK as long as he’s on a leash,” the officer said.

“How can I train her to come if she’s on a leash?” Silverstein objected.

People in uniform are not trained to think on the bias.

“We’re just enforcing the law,” the officer said. Then he drove away.

I’m with the dogs. After 10,000 years of fetch and roll over, they damned well deserve a place to run. Leash the kids, free the dogs.

Go on, Taffy. Sic ‘em!