The late-September rain hammered against the windshield of Emily Dean’s 2000 GMC Sierra. Inside the cab, a distinct aroma of wet dog permeated the air, a testament to her daily calling. Pet hair, a fine dusting of love and loyalty, coated every surface – the seats, the floor, the door handles. A chaotic tangle of leashes and a heavy ring laden with house keys, each representing a cherished canine client, rested between the seats. A small, wiry-haired white dog named Peanut squirmed comfortably on my lap, while several other dogs waited patiently in the covered truck bed, aware their highly anticipated destination was still to come.
This was their regular journey, a pilgrimage to the “promised land”: the Magnuson Off-Leash Dog Park. Emily Dean, their devoted shepherd and one of Seattle’s most experienced dog walkers, orchestrates this trek twice daily with two distinct groups of roughly 10 dogs. For an impressive 27 years, she’s been intermittently involved in this unique profession, consistently running her company, Seattle Walk Stars, for the past nine. Her ability to navigate the city streets, picking up dogs with an almost instinctual memory, mirrors the legendary efficiency of a seasoned London cabbie. If you’re considering entrusting your furry friend to someone else’s care, understanding the dedication and passion of Dog Walkers Seattle offers is crucial. For insights into different service models, you might explore concepts like [uber for dog walking].
Magnuson Dog Park stands as Seattle’s largest and most frequently utilized off-leash dog park. Spanning approximately nine acres of varied terrain and offering the city’s sole waterfront access for dogs in a metropolis where canines remarkably outnumber children, Magnuson serves as a vital sanctuary. It’s a haven not just for dogs and dog-lovers, but for the legion of professional dog walkers Seattle boasts. This winding, gravelly expanse forms its own unique world, a dog-centric microcosm thriving within a truly dog-obsessed city. My latest journalistic venture into Seattle’s diverse subcultures led me to join Dean and her pack, offering a firsthand perspective on the city’s vibrant dog culture through the eyes of its dedicated dog walkers. As someone not inherently inclined towards canines, I initially felt like an outsider in this bustling, four-legged universe.
Emily Dean: Leading the Pack with Seattle Walk Stars
Emily Dean admitted to considering a deep clean for her truck before my visit but quickly dismissed the idea. For a professional dog walker, such an effort is largely futile. When her pack includes more small dogs, and without a journalist observing, they typically pile onto the passenger seat. On this particular day, the pervasive mix of mud and wet dog scent was unavoidable – a natural byproduct of her work.
Beyond the practicalities, Dean simply doesn’t mind the dirt. In her younger days, living on a barge in Ballard, she shared her bed with her dogs, unfazed by the grit they tracked in. She playfully described it to her then-boyfriend as “like sleeping on the beach.” This relaxed demeanor, combined with an undeniable love for dogs, made her ideally suited for dog walking. She explained this while efficiently picking up dogs from Shoreline to Green Lake and then Wedgwood, expertly fitting them into the custom-designed, dog-sized hatch on her truck’s covered bed. As each dog joined the pack, she meticulously crossed their names off the back of an envelope: Palmer, Mar Mar Superstar, Truffles, and so on.
“Even if I didn’t have to work—like someday if I retire—I will do this even when I don’t have to,” Dean affirmed. “I just love it.” While she speaks of retirement, her aggressively entrepreneurial spirit suggests otherwise. She also manages a granola business and, during our drive, shared her innovative idea for a pop-up pickleball venture, envisioning it akin to temporary Halloween stores. In the past, when she first became a mother, she even contemplated transitioning from caring for dog packs to supervising groups of children in a daycare setting.
Ultimately, her profound connection to dogs keeps her in the profession. “They have their own personalities and quirks, and they let you keep your thoughts in your own head,” Dean observed, contrasting them with children. Dean openly admits her preference for working with animals over people. “It’s so good when it’s just you and the dogs,” she stated.
She first embarked on her dog walking journey in 1996, a time when the profession was largely nascent. She often had to explain her occupation to curious individuals. Dog culture has undergone significant transformation in the nearly three decades Dean has been involved. Today, dogs are increasingly seen as integral family members. “People have the money to spend, and they’re spoiling their dogs,” Dean noted, highlighting the evolving pet care landscape that benefits dedicated dog walkers Seattle. Sending a dog on an hour-long excursion to the Magnuson Dog Park with Seattle Walk Stars costs $35 per day. Dean is typically fully booked, managing anywhere from 10 to 12 dogs per park trip. While the Magnuson Dog Walkers Association typically limits dog walkers to 10 dogs, Dean sometimes stretches this limit. “I like to keep it wild,” she confessed. Her personal dogs remain untrained, and she extends this philosophy to the packs she walks. “I want to entertain the dogs. We’re more like Vegas rather than a business trip.”
Magnuson Off-Leash Park: A Haven for Seattle Dogs
After an hour and a half spent traversing the city to gather her canine charges, we finally pulled into the Magnuson Dog Park. The persistent rain had, mercifully, eased to a sputter. Dean equipped herself with a fanny pack brimming with poop bags and treats, then armed herself with leashes before releasing the dogs from the truck, one by one. The eager canines – Eno, a husky-like miniature; Cookie, a sleek, rust-colored companion; Poppy, a tall, somewhat melancholic black dog, among others – squeezed past Truffles, a white Great Pyrenees, to exit. Dean clipped each dog to a leash as they clambered out. As soon as their paws met the gravel, a universal canine ritual commenced.
Once the pack entered the heart of the dog park and Dean unclipped their leashes, they scattered with joyful abandon. “This is the hard part because everybody goes poop,” Dean said with a wry smile. “It’s like that game ‘concentration.’” As Dean meticulously collected one pile of poop after another, a fellow dog walker passed by, inquiring about Dean’s son. They chatted briefly, maintaining a comfortable distance.
Despite her self-professed preference for dogs over humans, Dean maintains collegial relationships with her fellow dog walkers. Liza White, owner of Four Legged Friends Seattle, shed light on this dynamic: “The working relationship between dog walkers is a weird thing. Think bumble bees versus honey bees; we work alongside each other, but we work alone.” The Magnuson Dog Park, like any vibrant community, is not without its occasional dramas.
The dog walkers, who frequent the park multiple times a day for most of the week, often feel a sense of stewardship over the space. The Magnuson Off-Leash Group (MOLG) traditionally organized work parties for dog walkers Seattle to help maintain the park. However, according to Dean, the individual who led MOLG at one point created a challenging environment for dog walkers, frequently chastising them for not adhering to rules. “The power got to her head,” Dean remarked. “She was creating way more problems than making solutions by being all up in everyone’s business.” In response, a rival group of dog walkers branched off from MOLG, establishing the Magnuson Off-Leash Dogwalkers Association (MODA), which essentially performs similar functions but without the accompanying friction. MODA operates with a committee of five professional dog walkers who collaboratively make decisions regarding advocacy and park maintenance. Liza White contributes by writing their newsletter.
Most dog walkers share a congenial rapport, and some have even forged genuine friendships. “People get together,” White confirmed. “A couple of dog walkers are in bands, so people will go and hear them play.” Max Rose, the owner of Mr. Pups Pet Care, launched his business during his college years. He and I discovered a shared experience in a University of Washington English class, having both studied Mark Z. Danielewski’s experimental novel, House of Leaves. “I loved that book,” Rose enthused. “Actually, Tim over there with the pink bandana”—Rose gestured to a dog walker across the park—”that’s their favorite book. That’s how we first became friends.” Rose already employs four individuals, two of whom were friends he met at the dog park. Coincidentally, one of those employees is dating Tim. (“You’ll absolutely see them smooching together in the park,” he chuckled.) Rose’s other employees include a high school friend and his girlfriend, with all three living together. “Obviously, when someone loves dogs it makes me like them,” Rose concluded, encapsulating the unifying power of their shared passion.
A professional dog walker in Seattle bending down to interact with a group of happy dogs at Magnuson Off-Leash Dog Park on a cloudy day
More Than Just a Job: The Passion Behind Seattle’s Dog Walkers
Every day for 23 years, Joe Hurd guides his dog pack through the nearly nine-acre Magnuson park, leading them to its natural terminus at the shore of Lake Washington. Once there, regardless of the weather or season, Hurd sheds his clothes and dives into the water. His loyal pack follows suit, trailing behind him in the cool lake.
I intercepted Hurd as Dean and I walked through the park, eager to hear more about his unique ritual of swimming with his dogs. “Describe it to me,” I implored. “I just go in the lake and I throw balls and swim with them,” Hurd replied stoically. “I can’t really describe it much more than that.” His business, Red Dog, Blue Dog, operates without a website or even business cards. Taciturn and solitary, Hurd’s focus remains solely on the dogs. “Being around dogs and so much love, my day is full of enjoyment,” Hurd shared, articulating a sentiment echoed by all the dog walkers Seattle I spoke with.
“I just love them,” Liza White affirmed. “I feel like dogs are people. They’re just dogs and also a type of person. I feel like we have a good relationship and friendship.” Max Rose articulated a similar deep connection, suggesting he often feels more akin to a dog than a person himself. “My ADHD is so bad I feel like a dog a lot of the time,” Rose explained. He elaborated further: “I’m trying to live a good life under circumstances I can’t always control. The one thing I can control is I get to be at the dog park every day. It’s the one place I’m not stressed out. It’s the place where I feel like myself.” Rose estimates he has visited the dog park every single day for the past eight years, a testament to its profound personal significance.
Navigating “Dog City”: Challenges and Charms of Urban Dog Life
The bustling ecosystem of Seattle’s dog parks comprises three main elements: the dogs themselves, the dedicated dog walkers Seattle, and the general public. This public spectrum ranges from regular park-goers who bring their own dogs to what Dean affectionately (or perhaps exasperatedly) refers to as “tourists”—individuals who only visit the park “on three-day weekends.” She characterizes these “tourists” as the type who might set up picnics, inadvertently causing chaos among the packs of dogs. Rose, with his extensive experience, humorously remarked that he could “write a book about dog park errors.”
Fundamentally, however, the dog park serves as a crucial space where individuals who deeply care for their dogs strive to provide them with a quality of life often challenging to achieve consistently in an urban environment. “It takes really highly adept dog people to have a dog live a healthy, happy, stress-free life in an urban setting,” Rose highlighted. Through my firsthand immersion with these professional dog walkers, I realized the true essence of my participation in this column wasn’t merely about observing dog walking. Instead, it was about learning to appreciate and find grace for Seattle’s unique and vibrant dog culture.
I must admit, my prior experiences living amidst city dogs had somewhat soured my opinion. Witnessing Cal Anderson Park transform from a public space for people into an unsanctioned off-leash dog park, essentially commandeered by an informal group of dog owners, had often incited frustration. My prevailing sentiment was that choosing to own a dog should not automatically grant it priority in shared communal spaces.
Furthermore, when I moved into a shared house, one of my roommates, who is also my best friend, asked if she could get a dog. It was intended to help her with certain emotional challenges. And indeed, the dog, Murphy—a small, tawny mutt with endearing floppy ears—did help immensely. My friend’s happiness visibly blossomed with Murphy’s presence. Murphy and I, however, were not instant companions. I found her cute, certainly, but her boundless energy was a challenge. Murphy, and the fact that she seemed more demanding than my cat (whom I considered perfect, despite his incessant evening meows to go outside), often frustrated me. In many ways, I was uncharitable in my impatience with the growing pains of a newly-adopted dog. Although, it didn’t help that she did pee on my bed twice.
A few months after Murphy entered our lives, my friend took her to the dog park, and I decided to tag along. Initially skeptical, I found myself charmed by the park’s diverse tapestry: the elderly individuals gently walking their dogs, the uncanny resemblances between some dogs and their owners, and, of course, the professional dog walkers Seattle with their complex knots of leashes strapped across their chests, gracefully guiding entire packs. Murphy, once hesitant, exploded with joy. She sprinted around dogs twice her size, playfully challenging them to chase her. Her personality, vibrant and uninhibited, shone in a way I had never witnessed. She tentatively dipped her paw-beans into the water, then eagerly bit at the waves, captivated by the light dancing off their surfaces. Perhaps, I mused, she was perfectly fine after all. Perhaps, as the internet often proclaims, all dogs are truly good dogs. Maybe.
Max Rose of Mr. Pups Pet Care smiling while surrounded by a joyful pack of dogs at a Seattle dog park, showcasing strong bonds with his canine clients
For the vast majority of dog owners in Seattle, finding reliable, passionate, and experienced dog walkers Seattle provides is a critical component of ensuring their canine companions lead healthy and fulfilling lives. The dedication shown by individuals like Emily Dean, Liza White, Max Rose, and Joe Hurd underscores the invaluable service these professionals offer to the city’s beloved pets and their busy owners. They are not merely performing a task; they are fostering community, providing crucial exercise, and offering a sanctuary for dogs to thrive in an urban landscape.
Professional dog walker Max Rose guiding a diverse group of dogs through a scenic wooded trail at a Seattle off-leash park
Sources & Further Reading
- Seattle Walk Stars: https://www.seattlewalkstars.com/
- Four Legged Friends Seattle: https://www.fourleggedfriendsseattle.com/
- Mr. Pups Pet Care: https://www.mrpupservices.com/
- Magnuson Off-Leash Group (MOLG): https://magnusonolg.org/about/
- Crosscut: Seattle pandemic separates pets from owners — there’s help: https://crosscut.com/environment/2021/05/seattle-pandemic-separates-pets-owners-theres-help
- National Geographic: The bigger brains of London taxi drivers: https://www.nationalgeographic.com/culture/article/the-bigger-brains-of-london-taxi-drivers#:~:text=The%20part%20of%20the%20brain,hippocampi%20than%20almost%20anyone%20else.
