LOS ANGELES — As Annie Lever padded along a sun-scorched trail in the Hollywood Hills, a white Labrador, a Gordon setter, and a golden retriever sprinted ahead. A 5-pound Maltese dashed in the dust by Lever’s sneakers, and two chocolate Labradors and a pit bull mix plodded behind.

“Are they all yoursfi” one hiker gulped.

Not exactly.

Lever, 46, is a professional dog walker who earns $150,000 a year — enough to buy a Brentwood condominium and a Steinway piano.

“I still wake up, look at my place and say, ‘This is the house the dogs bought me,’ ” said Lever, a graduate of University of Michigan with a degree in fine arts. “Who knewfi”

Most dog walkers don’t do as well. Lever’s clients include Hollywood moguls and movie stars.

She used to walk Jim Belushi’s shepherds but decided they were too aggressive. She tended Mike Myers’ two yellow Labradors and mutt for three years, until he assigned the task to his cook. She also exercised Steven Spielberg’s golden retriever and his daughter’s chocolate Lab, but it turned out to be too much of a hassle — between the security on his estate and the fact that the dogs periodically boarded with a trainer.

Lever is every pooch’s best pal. She romps with Ruby, throws the ball for Jake, and coddles Coco Chanel. If a dog misbehaves, he gets a timeout. When he shows self-restraint, he gets patted and praised. She alerts owners to behavioral and medical problems. (The dog that ate the candle, leaving the wick on the floor of his owner’s home, went straight to the vet.) The job of dog walker requires attributes of a kindergarten teacher, drill instructor and chauffeur. It’s like being the mother of 10 2-year-olds, said one Westside walker.

“You spend your day saying, ‘No humping. Don’t pee on your brother,’ ” said Lever, who has walked dogs for 10 years.

Sure, she cleans up after dogs, but she has higher social standing than the nanny. She’s invited to some of the most desirable parties. She gets fabulous presents: cashmere sweaters, diamond earrings, gift certificates for spa massages. She has an insider’s view — she knew Reese Witherspoon was pregnant long before the paparazzi knew. And she is her own boss.

Lever takes anywhere from six to 12 dogs at a time, three groups a day. During the summer, the first group hikes in the hills, the next two hit the dog park. For most of the year, every group goes on hikes. Rain or shine, the dogs go out. And Lever likes variety. One day she called Courtney Thorne-Smith about her basenji, a brown and white dog named Ed, and asked: “We’re at the beach. Can Ed stay out a little longerfi”

“I hate to admit it, but Ed is much more excited to see Annie than me,” the actress said. “She does different stuff all the time.”

Lever picks up and delivers each dog. By the end of the day, she has driven about 100 miles. She charges $25 per dog — a high rate for the industry. Most Manhattan dog walkers get $15, but they don’t drive their charges. Lever must remember which owners want security alarms activated, mail brought inside, television or lights turned on, as well as where to leave Fido. She also knows which dogs eat raw chicken hearts and gizzards, a new trend, and which ones get ice water. She jokes that the two Australian shepherd mixes eat better than she does, because their owner feeds them pre-cooked boneless chicken breasts. And she rolls her eyes at the owners who serve bottled water.

After all, she says, “dogs lick their own” bottom.

Dog-walking is not for the squeamish. When duty calls, so to speak, it cannot be ignored. Lever is prepared. She favors baby-powder-scented plastic bags, coiled in a tiny dispenser.

Horror stories abound: snakebites, dog bites and locking keys in a home (Lever is slender enough to wiggle through a doggy door to retrieve them). Once, another walker’s dog attacked Lever’s charge, peeling the fur off its back. Another time, one of Lever’s dogs collided with another chasing a ball, knocking out three teeth in the smaller dog, which belonged to a different walker. Or there’s the time Lever stopped at a light and her wagon’s back door flipped open, allowing 10 dogs to hop out into the street.

Lever drives a gray Mitsubishi Montero wagon. No one ever asks for a lift. A yellow leaf-shaped car deodorizer dangles from the rearview mirror; it is as effective as a beaver dam facing a tsunami. The heavy canine scent permeates the air even when the dogs are gone. Dog hair clings to the interior. Lever’s car doesn’t just reek; it sheds. For some Hollywood aspirants, dog-walking is the newest version of waiting tables and tending bar. It’s a job that allows time for auditions, pays well enough to fuel dreams of a name on the big screen, and — at the upper echelon — provides unusual access to important people. Linn Boyke, a 35-year-old wannabe screenwriter, waited tables for 10 years and switched to dog-walking. David Lee, 32, an actor, would rather walk dogs than wait tables or work as a spinning instructor at a gym, which he has done.

But Lever is a dog walker because she adores the dogs, the outdoors and the independence.

“Maybe someday, I’ll go into doggy day-care,” said Lever, who once ran an art gallery. “But as far as I’m concerned, I’ve found what I love.”

Standing 5 feet 4, she wears her auburn hair short and her skin tight — she’s a big believer in plastic surgery. (She’s had work done on her hips, thighs, stomach, breasts, nose and eyes.) Her eyes are the green-blue of Caribbean waters. Her hairstyle and color change dramatically every year.

Lever takes her job seriously. She even has a recurring nightmare. She dreams that it’ s 10 p.m. and she’s forgotten to walk a client’s dog. She awakens in a sweat. In real life, she hasn’t forgotten a dog, but she is careful to check and recheck which ones are in her car.

And Lever has moxie. The first time she drove into Spielberg’s compound, she used the regular driveway. A guard told her to take the service entrance. “I don’t think of myself as ‘service,’ ” she said.

A dog walker can be out of a job in less time than it takes to say, “Fetch.”

For two years, Lever walked Reese Witherspoon’s three dogs — an overweight English bulldog named Frank Sinatra, a French bulldog, Coco Chanel, and a Chihuahua named Chi-Chi.

When Lever first met Witherspoon at a park, the actress, shabbily dressed, had a child and two dogs in tow. A waitress, Lever mistakenly thought. Witherspoon asked Lever about her rates and Lever remembered thinking that the young mother couldn’t afford her. So much for appearances.

Witherspoon’s assistant recently called to tell Lever that too much gossip was getting into the tabloids. Unable to find the leak, household staff were being fired, the assistant told Lever. “It really hurt my feelings on a personal level,” Lever said. “You feel like you’re being ousted from their family. God, do they think I’m the snitchfi”

Through a spokesman, Witherspoon declined to comment.

In fact, a tabloid columnist had approached Lever. Lever said she refused to talk.

Lever liked Witherspoon. When Lever’s brother died, Witherspoon was the first to send flowers. And Coco was one of Lever’s favorites.

Midway through a recent morning hike, Lever put the chocolate Labrador Eliott on a leash because he was trying to eat dried dog poop. By the time Lever reached her car, all the dogs were panting, and she gave them water.

It took her two hours to drop off those dogs and pick up her next group. Each time she escorted a dog to his home and returned to her car, a pair of dogs took over the front seat. She shooed away Hugo and Sophie, two German shepherds.

Lever put the key in the ignition and eyed her coffee cup. “Who,” she asked, “has been drinking my lattefi”

This story appeared in The Daily Herald on page D6.