TUNCURRY dog agility park is at the corner of the town’s Beach and North streets.
The field had long been a designated leash-free park, but the addition of weave posts, tunnels, ramps and jumps in March added a new dimension for local dogs.
The Great Lakes Advocate stepped out to rub noses with some of the local canines and find out what the buzz is all about.
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BODY image is a prickly issue for Great Lakes dogs.
Four-year-old Buster Bickford doesn’t look like the golden retriever on the Pal can, and it’s led to a battle with weight.
“He’s 48 kilos, which is 10 more than he should be,” owner Ted says.
“We’ve got him on a diet, because these dogs can get hip problems when they’re older.”
Magazine ads and fire-rescue news stories promote shiny coats and trim midsections, but today Buster’s panting cheerfully.
Because it’s not the time for self-pity. Dozens of canines file into Tuncurry’s Dog Agility Park, the hippest address in town.
It’s a playground for the diamond collar set. Maltese terrier Bobby Gallagher turns snouts in a chic Purina knitted number. Owners Barry and Betty carry him on a tour of the park.
A bizarre cavalier-cross-chihuahua is held proudly by Mrs Hooper. His name is Patch, and he kind of looks like a grinning bat.
Sarah Bernhardt is a towering red setter. Two silky white Shih Tzus fuss at her feet like a pair of slippers, and owners Susan Bernhardt and Betty O’Donnell also chat away.
“It’s a wonderful place to come and see people,” Susan says.
“There’s not a place like it.”
Betty thinks dogs are the perfect conversation starter.
“Most dog owners are so friendly. People always smile when you walk past with a dog.”
But for jolly, overweight Buster, the park is about more than glitz and glamour. The obstacle course is a test of discipline, for fat dogs battling the scales and fit dogs fighting the clock.
“At first he wouldn’t go through the tunnel, so I went through and he followed me,” Ted says.
“And I’m a fitness freak, so sometimes when it’s dark I run around the park and do the obstacle course.”
Buster agrees to a demonstration lap with friend Katie Simmons, and weaves between the slalom poles for a confident start. Then he ducks into the concrete tunnel, shoots out the end and sends a Maltese terrier scurrying with a monstrous sneeze.
There’s a hiccup at the gates when he gets distracted and sniffs a border collie, a recovery as he thunders over the bridge and then a flat refusal to go over the jumps.
But then Buster steadies himself for his pet discipline, the final slalom. He glides through, tongue swinging with pride.
Buster is mobbed, and his side thumped heartily. A Jack Russell kicks up a cloud of dust and a fox terrier tucks his front paws under his chin.
For Great Lakes Council recreational officer Kerrie Simmons, the park is a logistical challenge. Park users are capable of seemingly endless output; some of the dogs’ rear ends dispense at will, like little vending machines.
“It will be up to dog owners to collect and deposit their dog’s poo,” Kerrie says.
“We’re looking at specialist bags that release one at a time.”
Hopefully the new system arrives soon. Who’d have known it takes so long to get that smell out of the Advocate’s lobby?