IN L.A., the myth that everyone is waiting to be discovered just won't die, fueled perhaps by the remote possibility that a casting director will one day walk into a Pinkberry and tap the guy behind the counter to portray, with moving realism, the guy behind a Pinkberry counter.
I'm immune to this kind of thinking -- unless it involves the dog.
In January 2008, I was playing ball with my German shepherd in a Studio City park, where we were approached by a woman from a talent agency who suggested Heidi had star quality and should come in for an evaluation.
You hear about parents being approached about their kids, but . . . a dog? Nonetheless, my mind was already racing, stage-mom style: Should I lie about her age? She's 6, but she can play 4 . . . she's big, but she can play small . . .
I pocketed the woman's card, never dreaming that trying to get Heidi's paw in the door of Hollywood would lead to meetings with movie and TV dogs, barking lessons, typecasting, an introduction to cosmetic fur coloring, a battle of wills with a professional rat and a close encounter with a very unprofessional skunk.
Heidi was found by a family friend in a storm drain in Houston with her litter of six puppies in the spring of 2003. She was not quite a year old. By the time she was rescued, three of the pups had died. She and the remaining babies were little more than fur, bones and fleas and needed blood transfusions. Our friend knew that we wanted to adopt an adult female dog and called us; in June of that year, my husband and I traveled to Texas to pick up our new pet.
Five years later, I found myself driving Heidi to the Hollywood Paws Animal Career Academy.
During her audition, Heidi obediently sat, stayed, hit her "mark" and caught her red ball. We were then hustled off to the meet with an agency rep who told us we had scored 4 out of 5. I didn't know I was being rated, too, for "dog interaction."
What would it take to get us both to perfect 5's?
Here's what: The representative recommended I enroll Heidi in a combo of Levels I and II of the three-level acting program. Cost: $3,995. I didn't even ask the price of Level III.
(For the record: Hollywood Paws was sued in 2006 by more than a dozen pet owners who said the agency failed to deliver on auditions and promised Hollywood connections, but a Superior Court judge dismissed all charges of fraud or negligent misrepresentation. A quote from the Statement of Decision: "Many of the plaintiffs wanted their pets to be stars . . . but Hollywood is filled with heartbreak.")
