See spot run -- very , very fast

THE day’s feature attraction, a female cheetah named Karoo, has just zipped down the dirt track at full throttle in a blur of orange and black.

Now, it’s Sven’s turn. Sven is a shaggy golden retriever who has been Karoo’s lifelong companion. On this Sunday morning at the Wild Animal Park in Escondido, he follows in the big cat’s footsteps, but as he hits full stride, it appears lost on no one that, by comparison, he’s slogging in slow motion. It’s not that he is slow. It’s just that he’s not a cheetah.

The dog crosses the finish line to the applause of roughly 25 spectators, who have paid $69 plus park admission to partake in the Cheetah Run Safari, a 90-minute attraction offered twice each weekend. The reaction to Sven’s sprint smacks a bit of parents who go nutty when the ninth batter on the Little League team squibs a ball between short and third for his first hit of the season, but it underscores a salient point: Watching a cheetah run at top speed isn’t an everyday experience -- not, anyway, unless you vacation regularly in Namibia or Botswana.

“You can’t see cheetahs in the wild this easily, and certainly not this close,” says Bettina Rigby, who fit in two Cheetah Run Safaris with her husband, Anthony, while on a two-week vacation from England. “And there’s virtually no chance of seeing them run, so this is unique.”

The safari attraction was launched in April when trainers decided that cheetah workouts were worthy of a broader audience. Once on Saturdays and again on Sundays, up to 50 people age 8 and older are trucked to the far side of the park to watch successive sprints by what trainers call “the fastest land mammal.” (The park promises only a single run, but the rotating cast of cheetahs -- Karoo, Kubali and Majani -- rarely fail to deliver an encore.) The “land mammal” distinction is necessary, and participants soon find out why. While the cheetah grabs a breather between runs, a peregrine falcon is brought out and introduced as the world’s fastest “animal.” The bird backs this up, doing a fly-by in the range of 200 mph, nearly triple the cheetah’s top speed of 70.

The trainer in charge for this safari, Kim Lemier, makes a point of urging the audience to enjoy at least one run without the obstruction of a viewfinder. Too often, she sees people compromise the experience by being overly focused on focusing their cameras.

“Listen to their feet hitting the ground,” she says, noting that all four paws are sometimes airborne at once as the cheetah chases a mechanized toy lure across the track. “It’s amazing.”

Once Karoo completes her second run, she stretches out in the shade and guests are summoned to gather round. The U.S. Department of Agriculture requires cheetahs this close to the public to be on two leashes, each held by a trainer.

At one point, a trainer requests that a small boy back up a few steps, joking, “You look like cheetah lunch.” Later, Lemier assures that cheetahs aren’t a threat to visitors, pointing out that there has never been a reported attack on a human.

“They’re a nonconfrontational cat species -- pretty much scaredy-cats,” she says.

Unlike more powerful animals such as lions and leopards, cheetahs don’t fight for their food, Lemier says. Instead, they hunt at night when there’s less competition, using their explosive speed to prey on gazelles and then eating their catch quickly before it’s stolen by other animals.

Post-race cooling off periods double as Q&A; sessions, but Lemier finds that people are so preoccupied staring at the huge cat -- the three weigh between 106 and 130 pounds each -- that they either forget to ask questions or don’t hear the answers.

“They can’t even think,” she says. “I could spew out all kinds of information, and, 10 minutes later, they’ll ask me the same question I just answered.”

That means interesting facts can get missed. You might learn, for instance, that female cheetahs run faster than males when chasing prey because they have cubs to feed and can’t afford to be lazy. Or that cheetahs in captivity have to be trained to run properly because, since they don’t have to run to get dinner, they don’t really know how.

Or that they are a “critically endangered” animal whose numbers have been thinned by years of population growth and trophy and fur hunting.

Or that their enlarged lung capacity and XL-sized nasal area gives them the necessary air flow to reach mach speeds.

Not surprisingly, the run itself is what intrigues kids most. Typically, says Lemier, there are one or two kids on each safari, and the reactions she sees vary widely depending on their age.

“From about 8 to 12, they’re fascinated,” she says. “But between 12 and 15, they aren’t sure whether they should respond the way kids respond or the way adults respond. They’re excited, but they can’t really show it.”

On this day, the excitement is evident on the face of one 9-year-old boy. As he leaves the park, he looks up at his dad and asks: “Can we stop by the library? I want to get some cheetah books.”

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Don Patterson may be reached at weekend@latimes.com.

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Cheetah Run Safari

Where: San Diego Wild Animal Park, 15500 San Pasqual Valley Road, Escondido

When: Through June 11: 2 to 3:30 p.m. Saturdays, 11 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. Sundays. From June 17 to Sept. 3: 6 to 7:30 p.m. Saturdays, 10 to 11:30 a.m. Sundays. (Park hours: 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. daily through June 16.)

Price: $69 plus park admission of $28.50 for adults or $17.50 for children 8-11. (Children must be 8 or older to participate.) Cheetah Run admission includes refreshments and a souvenir picture.

Info and reservations: (619) 718-3000