Dog Ablaze

“Jala!” I yelled. “Get out of the way!”

There was no wind. The sun was shining brightly. I hadn’t a care in the world, except for trying to make that putt, of course. It was a perfect day for a disc golf tournament.

Disc golf has basically the same rules as regular golf, or “ball golf” as disc golfers call it. The main difference is that you’re trying to get a Frisbee into a basket rather than a ball into a hole. 

On that particular day my disc flew right into a bush, so I had one leg in the bush and one leg out, squatting down to try to get a better angle through the trees to the basket, but Doug’s dog, Jala was right in my way.

“Jala!” Doug yelled. “C’mere. Go find something to do.”

Jala was a funny dog. A few minutes before every disc golf tournament Doug would pull up on his motorcycle, always with Jala sitting on the gas tank of the bike, excited for a day of freedom in the sun. Jala was a chow chow, so her crazy amount of hair made her look like a cross between a dog and a lion. Yup, that was Jala.

I made my putt and saved par, which meant one thing… it was time for lunch. Most tournaments had two rounds. In the morning we would play 18 holes, then after a break for lunch we would play another 18. On that particular sunny day up on the foothills of Salt Lake City, someone brought their full sized barbecue to sizzle up a few burgers during their break.

Going “all out” for lunch wasn’t really unusual for someone during a disc golf tournament. Disc golf is not just a sport, it’s a subculture. It’s not just a game, it’s a time for socializing too. It’s not just a way to get exercise, it’s where a lot of players would go to be around like-minded people.

“Jala!” Doug yelled again. “Leave them alone.”

Jala couldn’t resist the smell of the burgers. He was weaving in and out of people’s legs as they were gathering around the grill, waiting for their burger patty. He was chased away from the barbecue two or three times before the inevitable happened…

“The dog’s on fire!” someone yelled, and everyone turned to see.

I don’t think I had ever heard someone yell that before. There I was, minding my own business, eating my bologna and cheese sandwich, never considering for a second the possibility of an enflamed canine, but that was exactly what happened. The dog was on fire.

The grease dripping out of the barbecue was too irresistible, and with all that fir rubbing against the underside of the grill… well, poof! Up in flames.

When I looked up, half a dozen disc golfers were chasing Jala around the lawn. Disc golfers aren’t known for their speed and agility. It’s not that kind of sport. Humans aren’t known for their speed and agility. We’re not that kind of species. Dogs, on the other hand, can be pretty quick. Jala wasn’t the fastest dog in the world, but he was still quite a bit faster than the six hippy disc golfers on her tail.

Jala didn’t know why they were chasing her. With all the layers of fir she would probably need to burn for a day or two before her skin would feel the heat. So, the chase was on. Six long-haired hippy disc golfers were chasing one long-haired lion-dog all around the lawn, flames peaking somewhere around 10 inches off her back.

“You go that way, I’ll go this way,” someone panics.

There was no way those men were ever going to catch her the way things were going. And most importantly, the way Jala was going was straight toward the sagebrush and salt grass. That’s right, she was no longer interested in running around the flame resistant green lawn near the lunch pavilion. She was heading toward the highly flammable desert!

More people joined in the chase and the world was saved. It took a dozen brave firefighting disc golfers to extinguish the canine.

I don’t think Jala ever knew what really happened. The flames burned and burned, but never reached her skin. For all she knew, one minute she’s enjoying the taste of melted beef fat, and when she looks up she’s being pursued around the park. True story.