TheBunnyBlog.com - March 14, 2007

Only in Los Angeles could your dog get "discovered" at the dog park.

Tucker took the girls for a morning frolic at the park, which having done so many times myself, I'm well qualified to call how it went. Probably something like this:

Murphy picks up the scent two miles out, squeals and runs from one window to the other. Maxie is cool and nonplussed. The car pulls up and parks. Murphy bounces up and down, her tongue flinging dog spit everywhere. Maxie is disgusted by the droplet of Murphy spit on her coat, stands up and shakes violently to get it off, then is cool and nonplussed, fluffier from the shaking and ready to impress everyone at the dog park into "oo's" and "ah's," scratching, and treats on the sly. Murphy jerks her way into the park, unable to breathe because she is too stupid to understand the leash. Maxie trots aristocratically, her pawsicured toenails clicking on the cement like ladies' high heels. Soon the people will say "She's so beautiful and alert."

If Maxie were human, we wouldn't get along.

When the gate opens, Murph attacks the park, running into trashcans, tripping over Daschunds, rolling under Wolfhounds. From start to finish, she'll be a blur of black and white like a twistee cone with one bright pink sprinkle: her foot long tongue.

Maxie generally avoids the cretin until she makes her rounds. There are people who require her presence. She greets them with a flippy tail, like a feather duster, gives them her biggest and most pathetic "Please pet me eyes" and hops onto their benches. It works every time and it's really something to behold. No one dislikes Maxie. She's a master of PR and poor Murph barely knows her own name. God has been unfair here.

The morning my dog was "discovered," Tucker stood in a corner of the park keeping an eye out and making sure Murph didn't choke on her tongue. A cute girl with a clipboard was in the opposite corner of the park attending to a camera crew. She jogged over to Tucker and said, "Hi I'm [name.] We're shooting a doggie vitamin commercial later on today, and I was wondering if we could use your dog as one of the models."

Without hesitation Tucker agreed. It has always been Maxie's dream to be a supermodel.

"Maxie come here. This lady wants to make you a model."

Maxie looked up from whatever sucker she was working and scampered over. The cute girl with the clipboard said, "Oh. Um..." She looked in the direction of Murph, who was probably neck deep in a mud puddle at that point, and said, "Not the fuzzy one. The crazy one."

Tucker thought, Oh no.

He called Murph over, and she and the nice lady went to go do a screen test. Maxie could not understand what was going on. A rare look of panic befell her. She followed them to the cameras, looking back at Tucker, wide-eyed, incredulous. Murph was asked to sit in front of the cameras. She was frightened of them and huddled down. What the fuck is she doing? They're just cameras. Pose for the camera you stupid, stupid cretin!

Murph failed her screentest, of course. Maxie refused food for the rest of the day. She sat on the velvet couch in the sun with her head on her crossed paws, sighing sadly every so often.

She finally decided they must've been casting the "before" dog.

Surely it wasn't the "after" part Murph read for. I mean, look how cute and shiny I am.

Posted by The Bunny at 12:07 PM