It’s a Dogged Pursuit of Aerial Supremacy

The dog never isn’t looking at the bag sitting on the picnic table next to Ping Latvong.

Nasty Sassy is the dog. She is a 3-year-old border collie, all black fur, unusual for the breed, and with big, brown eyes that follow the gym bag so seriously that it must contain large hunks of meat.

But, no, Latvong says. The bag is not filled with meat. Not hot dogs, not steaks, not prime rib, all of which Sassy loves. More than meat, Sassy loves Frisbees. Sassy loves to leap and lunge, climb up Latvong’s back and sail over his head or launch herself off of Latvong’s sturdy thigh, anything that will allow Sassy to track down and catch a flying Frisbee.

On this particular day, Sassy is going to get to show off some of her tricks at John Marshall Park in Anaheim. All around her are people doing morning exercises. Power walkers, practicers of tai chi, joggers and softball players, men lifting weights and children doing jumping jacks. Sassy pays them all no attention because she is certain that soon Latvong--her owner, her trainer, her partner--will unzip that bag and take out those Frisbees.

Latvong, 32, whose parents brought him and his two brothers to the United States in 1980 from Laos, and Sassy, are the reigning runners-up in the Alpo Canine Frisbee Disc World Championships. Latvong and Sassy have recently qualified for the 1999 World Championships, held in September in Washington, D.C., by winning the Southwest Sectional.

Sassy is in her prime, Latvong says. If Sassy could talk, she might say that Latvong is in his prime as well.

Latvong’s father, Boun, was a police sergeant in Laos. Life was not terrible, Latvong says, for an outgoing, athletic 12-year-old who didn’t want to come to a strange country, where a 12-year-old boy had no friends and, worst of all, no place for his dog to join him.

“But my parents believed we could have a better future in the United States,” Latvong says, “and so we came. My father is not a policeman any more. He is a security guard. But he has worked hard and he has given us a better life, for sure.”

And if Ping, the oldest of the three boys of Boun and Deune, isn’t pursuing the American dream in the way his parents expected--of attending college, getting a degree, becoming a professional of some sort--Latvong is certainly creating his version of the dream.

He has been a state champion bodybuilder, before he became a dog trainer, and Latvong is also an accomplished hair stylist who works in Lake Forest.

But Latvong’s most serious passion is his Frisbee dog.

This passion is a rather recent development. Before Sassy there was Trixie, another border collie, a rambunctious pet who had a rambunctious owner. Latvong is constantly moving, tapping his feet on the pavement, drumming his fingers on the picnic table, running when he could walk, twitching when he could rest. “It is not easy for me to sit still,” Latvong says, and soon after he had bought Trixie, he was teaching her tricks with the Frisbee.

And soon after that, Trixie was participating in the Frisbee Disc championships and winning enough to qualify for the 16-dog world championships. As he was working with Trixie, Latvong bought Sassy and began training both dogs. A few weeks before the 1997 tournament, though, Trixie was hit by a car and killed. Not knowing what to expect, Latvong took Sassy to the regional qualifier, and they won.

“I was surprised,” Latvong says. “I wasn’t sure if Sassy was ready.”

Training for Sassy, who can leap nearly eight feet in the air, is an intense 20-minute workout four times a week. Training for Latvong is longer and more grueling. “The throws and the timing, that’s the key,” Latvong says. Latvong has to wear a padded shirt when he and Sassy practice or compete. He lifts up the shirt to show why--there are four mean scars on Latvong’s stomach where Sassy’s claws dug too deeply when climbing up Latvong’s torso to leap for the Frisbee.

These two athletes, man and dog, don’t compete for the money. Absolutely not.

Latvong and Sassy are thrilled to get their expenses to Washington paid as sectional winners. If they were to win the world championship Sept. 18 on the grounds of the Washington Monument, there would be a $1,000 check and a year’s supply of dog food.

“Everybody likes it that way,” Latvong says. “Nobody wants money to get too big. We’re afraid that would take the fun out of the sport.”

Wow. Imagine that. Sanity in place of money. Sport and fun with a man and his dog.

Diane Pucin can be reached at her e-mail address: diane.pucin@latimes.com.