uring Memorial Day weekend, Heather Davis had been walking her long-haired Chihuahua with her fiance in Skinner Park and saw Moore training a Bichon Frise, a tiny breed the American Kennel Club refers to as a “white powder puff of a dog.” She says she was surprised to see that it was wearing two electronic collars, one on the neck and one around the rearmost part of its waist. Moore, she recalls, was yelling at the Bichon to join a group of frolicking dogs in the middle of the park, repeatedly pressing a remote control and shoving the dog hard with her foot. “The dog was yelping, a lot. It was obviously scared—it just wanted to curl up in a ball,” she says. “It was even making my dog scared.” At one point, she says, the Bichon dashed across the park to cower under a stroller.
“I went up to Ami and I said, ‘Hey, your dog’s over there.’ She ignored that and started introducing herself to all of us as this great trainer and saying how she invented this training method, like she had forgotten all about the dog. I asked what was going on with the Bichon, and she said, really annoyed, ‘That dog has been nothing but a third tit on its owner, and I have to break it off and retrain it to be a dog.’ I just walked away, shocked.”