whereas The Clone Arranger’s unique lab environment was disguised to appear similar to a film industry structure.
The floor here was concrete—the better to be able to take on whatever appearance was necessary for the scene a studio was filming, simply by overlaying a compatible covering. Doggy nails clicked on the slick surface, but no canine appeared uncomfortable.
The walls, too, were nondescript. The ceilings were high enough to allow installation of lighting. The aroma was surprisingly dank for L.A., and somewhat musty.
A fair representation of a place an animal might visit, should it be chosen to star in a genuine Hollywood production, I imagined.
“Okay, Larry,” Shareen said. “Run Dorky through his paces.”
That dorky little dog was absolutely adorable. On command, he sat, stayed, stood, rolled over once more to play dead, jumped, crawled, did everything but don bifocals and read Shakespeare.
Shareen had handed me their leashes, so Lexie and Odin were beside me. They stood still, as if stunned.
As Dorky finished, Corbin Hayhurst joined us. He wore khaki slacks and a white, untucked cotton shirt that had started to wrinkle—giving a dorkier impression than Dorky. He greeted my dogs nearly as effusively as his wife had, petting them with his pudgy hands.
“I’ll take Dorky back to his room and give him an extra treat,” Shareen said. “Larry and Corbin can demonstrate a training session for you, and I’ll bring back some stuff we didn’t leave at your office—a more detailed list of which of our students have actually gotten roles, and some notices we’ve sent out when we’ve become aware of auditions. ”
For most of the next half hour, I had charge of Lexie while Larry worked with Odin and Corbin issued instructions. The simple stuff, like sitting and staying, Lexie got right away, since I had trained her that much as a pup. Of course a prolonged stay was out of the question, since she was much too energetic to remain in one location for more than a few seconds at a time.
Odin, on the other hand, listened intently. When he was told to stay, he didn’t move a muscle, except his eyes, until Larry said he could budge. Then Larry issued identical commands to him with sign language, and Odin got that just as fast.
Lying down provided Lexie with a wriggly assumption that she was about to get her tummy rubbed. Odin, on the other hand, lay where he was told. Even rolled over.
Hey, I had a budding canine movie star in my charge— and it wasn’t my own cute but disobedient Cavalier. Nope, a really bright Akita named Odin might someday be given credit on the big screen. Or even moderate-size TV screens. Who knew?
Of course that presupposed I was prepared to do the audition thing with him.
Or Jeff would, when he came back. . . .
Oops. I shouldn’t have allowed my mind to veer in that very dangerous direction. I was suddenly all solemn, fighting as my eyes considered becoming teary.
Fortunately, that was also when Shareen sauntered back into the room, hands filled with file folders, and I used her as a distraction. I approached and asked to look at the contents, ignoring Lexie leaping at my side.
“Did you read the agreement I left with you on Monday? ” she asked.
Fortunately, I had. “The disclaimer seems appropriate,” I said. “You make no guarantees that your students will land film roles.”
“Exactly. That’s on our website, too. But that hasn’t stopped that horrible woman with the pair of Bichons— and they were the hardest dogs of all to get disciplined enough even to audition—from getting a bunch of our students’ owners together to sue us. I’ve got her application and other information in that packet, along with photos of her little white monsters.”
“Good,” I said. “And the class this afternoon really gave me better insight into what those who are casting animals may be looking for. Probably not Lexie, unfortunately, unless someone’s simply after cuteness
The floor here was concrete—the better to be able to take on whatever appearance was necessary for the scene a studio was filming, simply by overlaying a compatible covering. Doggy nails clicked on the slick surface, but no canine appeared uncomfortable.
The walls, too, were nondescript. The ceilings were high enough to allow installation of lighting. The aroma was surprisingly dank for L.A., and somewhat musty.
A fair representation of a place an animal might visit, should it be chosen to star in a genuine Hollywood production, I imagined.
“Okay, Larry,” Shareen said. “Run Dorky through his paces.”
That dorky little dog was absolutely adorable. On command, he sat, stayed, stood, rolled over once more to play dead, jumped, crawled, did everything but don bifocals and read Shakespeare.
Shareen had handed me their leashes, so Lexie and Odin were beside me. They stood still, as if stunned.
As Dorky finished, Corbin Hayhurst joined us. He wore khaki slacks and a white, untucked cotton shirt that had started to wrinkle—giving a dorkier impression than Dorky. He greeted my dogs nearly as effusively as his wife had, petting them with his pudgy hands.
“I’ll take Dorky back to his room and give him an extra treat,” Shareen said. “Larry and Corbin can demonstrate a training session for you, and I’ll bring back some stuff we didn’t leave at your office—a more detailed list of which of our students have actually gotten roles, and some notices we’ve sent out when we’ve become aware of auditions. ”
For most of the next half hour, I had charge of Lexie while Larry worked with Odin and Corbin issued instructions. The simple stuff, like sitting and staying, Lexie got right away, since I had trained her that much as a pup. Of course a prolonged stay was out of the question, since she was much too energetic to remain in one location for more than a few seconds at a time.
Odin, on the other hand, listened intently. When he was told to stay, he didn’t move a muscle, except his eyes, until Larry said he could budge. Then Larry issued identical commands to him with sign language, and Odin got that just as fast.
Lying down provided Lexie with a wriggly assumption that she was about to get her tummy rubbed. Odin, on the other hand, lay where he was told. Even rolled over.
Hey, I had a budding canine movie star in my charge— and it wasn’t my own cute but disobedient Cavalier. Nope, a really bright Akita named Odin might someday be given credit on the big screen. Or even moderate-size TV screens. Who knew?
Of course that presupposed I was prepared to do the audition thing with him.
Or Jeff would, when he came back. . . .
Oops. I shouldn’t have allowed my mind to veer in that very dangerous direction. I was suddenly all solemn, fighting as my eyes considered becoming teary.
Fortunately, that was also when Shareen sauntered back into the room, hands filled with file folders, and I used her as a distraction. I approached and asked to look at the contents, ignoring Lexie leaping at my side.
“Did you read the agreement I left with you on Monday? ” she asked.
Fortunately, I had. “The disclaimer seems appropriate,” I said. “You make no guarantees that your students will land film roles.”
“Exactly. That’s on our website, too. But that hasn’t stopped that horrible woman with the pair of Bichons— and they were the hardest dogs of all to get disciplined enough even to audition—from getting a bunch of our students’ owners together to sue us. I’ve got her application and other information in that packet, along with photos of her little white monsters.”
“Good,” I said. “And the class this afternoon really gave me better insight into what those who are casting animals may be looking for. Probably not Lexie, unfortunately, unless someone’s simply after cuteness
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