by Nikki Attree
Gizmo looks sheepish (or at least his white fur does). He’s rather afraid that he might fall into this category. “To be absolutely honest, Uggie mate, I think I might rather have been thrown in the deep end myself with this acting malarky. I had a few lessons in Tenerife, but I’m kind of hoping that I can wing it by improvising on set. Actually, I‘d really appreciate it if you could give me a few tips."
The famous Jack Russell accepts graciously. “Of course. No worries. Especially as you’re a rescue pooch like myself. I’m pretty much retired now anyway, so I don’t mind passing on some of my experience. I’ll be giving something back by helping an aspiring thespian. I mean, it’s not as if you’re about to usurp me now, is it?”
Uggie chuckles to himself, and the other two dogs maintain a polite silence.
“Actually Gizmo, when you arrived at the hotel I noticed how you worked the room, and I thought to myself that you definitely had potential.”
Gizmo is flabbergasted. "Thanks Uggie. That's really wooftastic of you" he woofs bashfully.
Doodle is feeling a bit left out now. Gizmo seems to be getting more than his fair share of attention from Uggie, and she can’t help feeling a wee bit jealous. “Well, I certainly won’t be needing any help with my performance” she woofs, wiggling her backside, “I’ll be just perfect. As long as they have a decent groomer here, at least.”
Gizmo gives a snort of derision. Uggie can’t hide his grin, but he answers her seriously: “well now Doodle, there’s no denying that you’re a good-looking bitch, but it takes more than a fluffy tail and a cute butt to make it in the movies. OK you can maybe have your five minutes of fame on TV like Shaggy, but to follow in the paw treads of Lassie, Rin Tin Tin, Marley ... Well, that takes real hard work and commitment.”
There’s a pause as Doodle takes this in, suitably chastened.
"So, have you met Lassie?" Gizmo asks.
Uggie chuckles. “Well, maybe you don’t know this, but over the years there have been quite a few Collies that have played the Lassie role ...”
The other two dogs gasp. No, they never knew that.
“Anyway, yes I used to hang out a fair bit with the last-but-one Lassie. Poor pooch had to go into rehab for a while though. She had an addiction problem with a particular brand of dog biscuits. Fans used to bombard her with them, and she just couldn't get enough of ‘em. Refused to eat anything else. They tried to wean her off ‘em by giving her cold turkey cuts, but it didn’t work. She was getting so fat that people were starting to notice that she didn’t look anything like the previous Lassies.”
“Oh my goodness,” woofs Doodle. “I can so relate to that. I absolutely love those minty biscuits, and they make my breath smell lovely and fresh.”
The two male dogs subtly edge further away from her. Minty and fresh is not their idea of how a dog’s breath should smell.
“But I do have to watch my weight” she continues to woof. “It’s something all us girls have to keep an eye on. Anyway, how is she now?”
“Lassie? Oh she’s doing just fine now. It was touch-and-go for a while, but she pulled herself together when the producer threatened to replace her with another dog. She’s got a lot more discipline than these fly-by-night reality TV bitches. A real pro can pick themselves up and get back on form again in no time. She has real talent and depth, and she truly lived inside that role. Of course, eventually the time came for her to retire and pass the role on to a younger actor. Happens to all of us in the end ...”
Uggie gazes wistfully into the distance, and a melancholic mist envelopes the Jacuzzi. But not for long. He takes a sip of his cocktail, and snaps out of it with an anecdote from happier times: "I must admit, I too fell from grace for a while. My downfall was the groupies that follow us V.I.Ds around like female Shaggys. As soon as they know you’re in the movies they throw themselves at you. I can resist his advances, obviously (shudder the thought!), but some of these groupie bitches are irresistibly cute.”
Gizmo gives him an interested look. It sounds like this acting malarky might have some unexpected perks. Uggie continues his confession: “you know Giz, sometimes I long for the days when you had to chase a bitch around the park for weeks before you even got a sniff of her backside. It's the chase that’s the fun part." He does the wistful gaze again. “OK, the humping’s quite fun too.”
Gizmo is not entirely upset to hear that he is just about to launch a career that involves being hotly pursued by gangs of irresistibly cute canine groupies. Nether the less he maintains a respectful distance, and politely asks Uggie to continue the story of his brief fall from grace.
"Well, the paparazzi followed me to this swanky Hollywood grooming parlor, and they caught me on camera getting rather well acquainted with three Bichon Frissons and a French Poodle.”
Doodle gasps and blushes again.
“It was all over the newshound press. I think it was a setup actually, or maybe a tip-off from the manager. It was just too convenient the way they turned up at exactly the right moment. I also reckon they did some photo-shopping on the pics, because there’s no way that I’m that flexible. Even with all the Yoga ...”
Gizmo chuckles, and Doodle goes another fifty shades of pink.
“I tried woofing to ‘em that me and the bitches were just trying out some different shampoos, and they were just helping me to rub the stuff into my fur, but you know what humans are like: they never listen to us dogs properly when we’re woofing to them.”
Doodle nods. She understands just how important the right brand of shampoo is.
“After that incident I realised that enough was enough. All the off-set activity was affecting my career. There was so much partying going on that I was falling asleep between takes. It’s a cutthroat business, and if you’re not on top of your game another mutt will claim your spotlight in the wag of a tail.”
Gizmo considers Uggie’s advice carefully. On the one paw he finds these stories of the pitfalls of stardom highly appealing, but on balance he’s a down-to-earth kind of pooch. "If I make it in the movies I think I'll keep my paws firmly on the ground. I won’t let fame go to my head. No late-night biscuit scoffing, sniffing weird stuff, mass humping sessions ... or at least, not too many anyway."
There’s a pause in the woofing as the three dogs retreat to their own thoughts, leaving just the soothing sound of bubbling water in the Jacuzzi. But not for long. The silence is rudely shattered by a loud splash as Shaggy dives in, and farts loudly.
“Howdy y’all. Now that’s mah way of dealing with dirty talk behind mah back! So, who’s up for a bit of good ol rumpy pumpy?” He leers at Doodle as she franticly doggie paddles to the other side of the hot tub.
Gizmo frowns at him. "Calm down Shaggy, mate. You’re barking up the wrong tree, and coming on a bit strong. Maybe try being just a bit more laid back for a change?"
“Hot diggedy Gizmo. You’re a dogarn Labra-doodle-dandy. Being a cool dude just comes natural to good lookin dawgs like y’all. I have to work at it.”
"Well, thanks for the compliment, Shaggy"
"So do y’all want a shag then ...?"
“You’re doing it again. Relax mate."
“Ah believe that if yer don't ask, y’all don't get nuthin in this life." Shaggy woofs back.
“Well yes, maybe, but you don’t have to be so dogarn desperate."
Uggie nods in agreement. "Gizmo is right, Shaggy. Calm down a bit."
The ugly little mutt paddles over to Uggie with his tongue hanging out. "You are mah hero Ugs. It's such a dawgone honor to share the same bubbles with y’all. I just can’t help mahself. I git so excited. Mah tongue has a life of it’s own ...” The infamous haircut disappears beneath the surface.
That does it. Uggie has just about had enough: “get your tongue out of my butt before I rip it out of your mouth!” he snarls.
One of Wags’ staff grabs Shaggy and yanks him out of the Jaquizzi. He’s carried back to his room, wriggling, squirming, and howling: “but ah lurves ya
Uggie. It was meant to be. Me and y’all together. Fur-ever ..."
The three dogs breathe a sigh of relief as the howls recede into the distance.
“Oh dear. That mutt is an embarrassment to the canine species” Uggie woofs, climbing out of the Jacuzzi. “I need a lie down after that little episode.” He stretches out on a lounger for a snooze.
Doodle is simply outraged: “it's just not acceptable to allow dogs like that to stay in an exclusive hotel like this. He's so ugly. So uncouth and so common. And he behaves unspeakably. I don't know how I’ll be able to sleep tonight, worrying that he might try to get into my room!"
Gizmo is sympathetic, but like Uggie, he’s no snob: "look, I know Shaggy’s a bit excitable, but he can't help being ugly, or not knowing who his parents were. After all, we’re both mixed breed aren't we? OK, good looking ones maybe, but mongrels all the same."
Doodle looks shocked, but before she can react Gizmo makes a chivalrous proposal: “anyway, look, I can always sleep in your room if it helps you feel safer?”
For sure, chivalry isn’t Gizmo’s only motive for the suggestion. Doodle can’t say that she isn’t flattered; tempted even; but they’ve only just met, and she’s not sure how she feels about him. He’s clearly a handsome hound, and he seems nice enough, but he’s spent all that time on the streets. It’s made him streetwise, a bit rough, and very sure of himself. She feels unsure, inexperienced, naive even.
Anyway, she knows that they have weeks of working together to survive, so it might be wise to maintain some distance, at least while they get to know each other better. In any case, right now she’s simply outraged at his suggestion that she’s not a pedigree dog.
“Well, that’s very nice of you to offer Gizmo, but I’ll make sure that I lock my door tonight. In the meantime, what’s all this about us both being mongrels? You might be, but I most certainly am not! I know exactly who my parents were. Elizabeth paid two thousand pounds for me, and the breeder gave her my family tree going back six generations.”
“Yeah, OK, so you can trace your line back, but that chart doesn’t make you a pedigree breed. Labradoodles are just “designer dogs” apparently. Whatever that’s supposed to mean.”
Doodle is lost for woofs. She feels like her whole world has collapsed. Surely it can’t be true? Is she really just a common mongrel, like that unspeakable Texan mutt? There again, it could perhaps explain why that bitchy Maltese next door: Tabitha, crosses the road with her nose in the air whenever she sees Doodle.
She sniffs, and a little whimper of despair escapes. Gizmo’s chivalrous side is activated again. He’s a sucker for the lady dogs’ sniffles. He didn’t mean to upset her, and he had no idea that she was so sensitive. Clearly she’s quite a vulnerable pooch, and he’ll have to be more careful with her.
"OK, you may not be a pedigree dog, but on the other hand how many mutts can say that they’re ‘designer dogs’? That’s got to make you a bit special.”
Doodle cheers up a little and the sniffles quieten down, but she still looks a bit lost.
“Really Doodle, you need to get out more and toughen up a bit. Mix with a few more furries.”
“Yes, you’re right Gizmo. Being a designer dog is better than nothing. At least we’re not common mongrel riffraff. And you’re also right about needing to get out more. I don't socialise much with other dogs. It’s not my fault. My humans aren't very keen on walks, and I spend a lot of time alone.” More sniffles.
"Look, I’m sorry Doodle. I didn't know you were a 'home alone’ dog."
“Yes, well I do spend a lot of time on my own, but you get used to it. I’m over feeling lonely, and I’m very comfortable with my own company. So you can forget any ideas that I might need you in my bed. Anyway, I think it must be nearly dinner time by now.”
Doodle gets up, stretches languidly, and struts off towards the dining room.
Gizmo shrugs. “Ah well, that’s a shame. One that got away, eh Giz my lad? Plenty more in the long grass, but all the same ... She’s definitely a bit up her own backside, but it would have been nice to have a cuddle. Anyway, let’s see how things pan out.”
7 CANINE CO-STARS
It’s Saturday morning in Stoke Newington. Harry is still asleep, after yet another heavy night in the ‘Bucket of Blood’ failing to bed Rosie, the exuberantly endowed barmaid. Jack leaves the house reverberating to his partner’s snores, and heads down the high street to the internet cafe. He’s planning to do some background research over his morning coffee, and who knows, maybe Annie might pop in, or perhaps he’ll message her.
First he unfolds the page he printed out from the Sunday Times magazine, with the picture of Elizabeth and her dog. Checking her name, he types: “Elizabeth Parker-Smyth” into Google. The first entry that comes up is the ‘Celebrity Pets’ interview that is on the desk in front of him. The second is a press release in a film magazine, dated a few months ago.
The headline is: ‘Cutting Edge Films buy rights to a Dog’s Danglies of a Book.’ Jack reads on:
‘Senior producer: Elizabeth Parker-Smyth today unveiled their latest mid budget movie project. Based on a relatively obscure novel: ‘Nobody’s Poodle’, it is currently in preproduction.
The book is the story of a lovable ex-pat pooch uprooted from his home in cold, damp, muddy old England to start a new life in Tenerife. It’s a gripping story, with a plot that is the mutt’s nuts. You'll be howling with laughter at some bits, and sobbing your eyes out at others. Some bits may even make you barking mad!
Elizabeth told Movie Monthly that working with canine actors would be an exciting new challenge for her. She cited the box office success of Lassie, Marley, and Uggie, as well as the current obsession with dogs in advertising and TV; and added that as the owner of a lovable pooch herself, she understood the massive appeal of a great dog movie.’
Scrolling back to the Google search results Jack notices another, more recent press release in the same magazine:
‘Cutting Edge Films announced yesterday that filming is due to start next week at Pinewood Studios on their current project: ‘Nobody’s Poodle’.
Elizabeth Parker-Smyth, the producer, was not prepared to give too much away about casting until all the screen tests were completed, but she told Movie Monthly that they are working with top dog trainers, plus some ‘gorgeous designer dogs’, and she hinted that her own pooch might even have a starring role.
Elizabeth added that once the studio scenes had been shot, they would be filming in some ‘stunning locations’ in Tenerife.’
Jack feels his pulse quicken. Suddenly he remembers where he last saw a poster for a dog that looked just like the white poodley one that he’s been stalking for the past few weeks. Of course, it was when he was at the Earl’s Court dog show with Annie.
Now what was the name of that website? Something to do with dogs woofing. The name had made him grin ... ah yes, he’s got it: ‘Wooftastic Books’. He types it furiously into the browser and is immediately rewarded with a picture of a gorgeous fluffy white pooch, wearing glasses, and typing away on a laptop. It’s the cover of ‘Nobody’s Poodle’, the very book that Elizabeth is just about to turn into a movie, and her dog is going to be the star.
Jack is getting excited now. They already knew that this posh Hampstead woman had money and seemed to be some kind of minor media celebrity, now it looks like her dog is one too! If they dognap the star the film can’t go ahead. They can hold the whole movie company to ransom. That must be worth a hundred grand at least!
He mutters a triumphant “Yes!” and punches the desk, spilling his coffee. A few heads turn his way. He smiles weakly, shrugs, and mops up the coffee. This bit of internet browsing is exceeding all expectations, but he must keep his feet on the ground and be careful. For a start, it might not be such a good idea to tell Harry. His partner is unpredictable and prone to overreacting at the best of times. He already wanted to escalate the level of violence when told that this job was their ‘Big One’, so what migh
t his reaction be to this latest news? No, best to stay stum for the moment.
There’s one more bit of research that Jack needs to do before logging off. He types ‘Wags dog hotel’ into the browser and is immediately taken to their website. “Wags - The Hilton for Hounds” announces a silky smooth voice, as their glossy promotional video shows off their exclusive facilities. Pampered Poodles paddle in the pool, athletic Alsatians work out in the agility area, Labradors laze on loungers, contented Collies chill-out in the Jacuzzi, Yorkshire Terriers are groomed to perfection in the fur styling salon.
Jack is more interested in the link labelled: ‘Security’. Clicking on it confirms what he suspected: security, or what passes for it at Wags, seems to be aimed at impressing the human customers, rather than keeping their canine clients safe. So the webcams are there to provide online entertainment for the punters, rather than surveillance. Yes, they are monitored, but not by a dedicated security operator, just by the receptionists, whose job seems to be preventing a pooch drowning in the pool, as well as checking clients in. There are cameras in the rooms, again so that a customer can observe their pet as they sleep, and they might prove to be the only obstacle. Though it’s not one that unduly worries Jack. He doubts that anyone will be watching in the middle of the night, and anyway covering the camera will easily buy them enough time to grab the dog and make their getaway, before anyone even realises that something is amiss.
The client list and guest feedback pages are certainly impressive. Several well known actors, sports stars, and politicians are regular clients, and among the canine celebrities he notes: ‘Doodle - star of the forthcoming blockbuster: ‘Nobody’s Poodle’ is currently getting the V.I.P. treatment at Wags.’
Jack briefly ponders the lucrative rewards they could earn by nabbing half a dozen of the more famous mutts, but quickly dismisses the idea. “Best not to be too greedy. Let’s keep things simple. Less is more and all that” he thinks to himself.
