"Ah yes" said Geoff Grinham (author of 'Dog Training & Behaviour'), smiling to
himself as he pondered the unusual request. "I think I know JUST the dog for
you." It was October 1995 and at the other end of the line was Roy Beale,
Disney's Chief Animal Trainer and a man with a problem. The following week's
shooting schedule for the new Walt Disney film '101 Dalmatians' called for
something he so far had been unable to provide: a savage Airedale Terrier.
JAKE, the handsome young dog bought from Jan Favell's Shadlian kennel to star
in the remake of this Disney classic, had proved highly intelligent and easy to
train. In no time at all he had picked up any number of tricks and was a joy to
work with. However, as the hero who tries to prevent the baddies from making
off with the puppies destined to become Cruella DeVille's fur coat, he was
required to bare his teeth and look threatening.
This was the one thing gentleman JAKE - being such a sweetheart - simply would
not do. In desperation Roy Beale had rung the only man in the country who was
both a respected dog trainer and something of an Airedale specialist too. Could
he provide such a dog? Indeed he could.
I was in two minds about the wisdom of this when Geoff subsequently rang me to
enquire about HOLLY's availability for an audition. Did we really want to
portray our breed as aggressive, given the threat such behaviour posed to all
dogs under the notorious 1991 Dangerous Dogs Act? Geoff assured me that the
role called for the Airedale to be a hero rather than a villain, and so it was
that a few days later we found ourselves at Shepperton Studios: Geoff, HOLLY,
POPPY (in attendance as her daughter's chaperone), and I.
Why HOLLY you might ask? Well, I'm afraid that this wonderful ambassador for
PAT Dogs, star of the BBC children's programme 'Blue Peter', the Miss Priss of
our Monday training evenings who ALWAYS gets it right, has a darker side to her
character. Not for nothing had she been nicknamed 'The Alien' by other club
members. Whenever one of the younger generation misbehaves, running down the
line of waiting dogs instead of doing the required Recall, or perhaps making
inappropriate overtures when she's not in the mood, HOLLY doesn't simply bare
her teeth - she rolls her lips right back to her ears, uttering the most
blood-curdling threats at the same time. It doesn't mean anything of course,
but it does look quite horrible.
On arrival at the Studios we introduced ourselves to Roy and his colleague
Sally-Jo Sousa who exclaimed "Gee, I've never seen a BLONDE one before".
(Having been clipped all their lives rather than hand-stripped, POPPY and HOLLY
have lost the rich tan colour of the correct Airedale Terrier coat and are
distinctly pale.) Never mind, Sally-Jo assured us, Make-Up would soon put that
right. As JAKE's body double, stunt-dog HOLLY would be dyed to match. I looked
at Geoff incredulously. My dog, DYED? The other stumbling block would appear to
be the difference in their sizes. JAKE was a strapping eighteen-month-old male,
HOLLY a small five-year-old bitch. "They'll probably stand her on a box" Geoff
suggested, "Like Alan Ladd". At this point I started to giggle.
There was a large grassy area bounded on two sides by purpose built kennel
blocks which housed all the dogs being used in the film. I asked if I could let
HOLLY stretch her legs before we got down to the serious business of her
audition. Of course, they said. I unclipped her lead and she was OFF, like a
child loose at Disney World. All those smells. All those dogs! She ran this way
and that, nose to the ground, pausing every now and then to make her own mark
or to stare at the kennels from which came a cacophony of barking in every
language known to dogs: Dalmatian, Bulldog, Beardie and, of course, AIREDALE.
"OK", they said. "When you're ready."
I called her: "Holly, come". She took no notice but continued on her merry way.
Again, but a bit louder "Holly, COME!". Still she ignored me. Geoff began to
look uncomfortable, his reputation as a trainer coming under scrutiny from the
Disney professionals. I tried the puppy recall routine, running backwards
clapping my hands together enthusiastically, using my best happy-dog voice,
"HOLLY, C-O-M-E". No response. Even the Disney people started to look
uncomfortable. I pleaded, I cajoled, I offered bribes, treats, walkies.
Nothing. Finally I was reduced to chasing after her, snapping the lead back on
as she looked at me in surprise. "ME? You were calling ME? Sorry, I didn't
realise". Wag wag. There are times when you could murder them.
"OK, let's see her do her stuff" said Roy. I explained that it wasn't quite as
easy as that. To achieve The Alien behaviour HOLLY needed to be provoked. If
they could just bring out their Airedale and let him sniff her backside, all
would be revealed. They conferred amongst themselves and, somewhat reluctantly,
sent someone to fetch JAKE from the kennels. Having spent months training him
for his film role they were naturally wary of getting him bitten at this stage
by an unpredictable and clearly out of control bitch. To be on the safe side
the kennel maid held him on a tight lead, well out of harm's way. He looked
MAGNIFICENT, up on his toes, young, virile, eager. HOLLY's heart melted. Far
from behaving like the required Alien she turned into a star-struck teenager,
all coy wriggles, flirty play bows and wagging tail. We looked at her in
disbelief.
They were very nice about it. "We'll call you in the week" they said. But of
course we already knew what the answer would be. On the drive home I tried to
console Geoff with the thought that we wouldn't have wanted her dyed anyway.
And as for standing on a box. For heaven's sake. How degrading. No, we agreed,
she was well out of it. Until the next time, of course.
It was four years before she got another chance. This time it was 'RKO 281', a
film about Orson Welles and the making of 'Citizen Kane', the somewhat obscure
title a reference to the sound stage on which that film was shot. The opening
title sequence was to be a montage of photographs showing Orson Welles at
various stages of his life. One of these was of him as a child sitting with
what the script described as a 'large terrier-type mutt'.
The film's Producer Su Armstrong (who is a friend) rang to ask if I could bring
my 'girls' over to Bray Studios near Windsor the following day to see if one of
them might be suitable. They were to look as scruffy as possible so I was not
to brush them beforehand.
With HOLLY in the third week of her season I asked if any other dogs would be
there. No, said Su, she didn't think so. As it was to be a period photograph I
hunted out a couple of old leather collars instead of their usual bright red
and green nylon ones and off we set, arriving at the studios in time for lunch.
The two dogs caused enormous interest, everyone stopping to say hello and pat
them. Even Liev Schreiber, the Canadian actor who plays the adult Orson Welles,
came bounding out of his trailer as soon as he saw them, telling me he had
grown up with an Airedale which his father used to take hunting bears. My two
softies shuffled their feet and looked at the ground, anxiously praying I
wouldn't spill the beans. They can't even keep our RABBIT population under
control.
HOLLY spotted him before I did, a gorgeous Beardie called TAZ, and once again
any thoughts of stardom disappeared in a surge of hormones. She wanted him more
than anything else, and she wanted him NOW. He, on the other hand, was playing
hard to get. His owner had put him in a Down Stay and 'down' he stayed despite
all her blandishments. She pranced and danced, she twirled and whirled, she
whined and barked. In short, she made a complete exhibition of herself but he
took no notice whatsoever. This was a real professional, a dog whose many
advertising and film credits included the current Abbey National commercial. A
dog who probably already had his own fan club. She was dizzy with admiration.
The dogs and I sat watching as an army of assistants scurried about putting all
the props in place, adjusting the lighting for the stills photographer, and
being nicely brought up we waited to be asked to move into position. Not so
TAZ's owner, a professional Handler, who was in there like a rat up a drainpipe
as soon as he saw they were ready. "Oh look, isn't he cute" marvelled the crew
as on command TAZ leant winsomely against the 10-year-old actor playing the
young Orson Welles. "Can your dog do that too?" I gritted my teeth and admitted
that no she couldn't. SHE did something MUCH more worthwhile. SHE was a PAT Dog
(a Therapy Dog) - St. Holly of the #c0c0c0shott Nursing Home.
At last it was our turn. The script called for the 'terrier type mutt' to sit
on a small 2' high stool with the young actor standing next to her, and to look
intelligently towards the camera. Getting her up on the stool was no problem.
"Sit. STAY" I commanded with more confidence than I felt, and moved away to
stand next to the photographer. As he fiddled and focussed I said the magic
words: "SQUIRRELS! BUNNIES!" Her ears pricked up immediately. "Oh do look at
that" intoned the Assistants, "Isn't she just GORGEOUS!". I repeated the
Squirrels 'n' Bunnies mantra and the photographer clicked away until it was
time to re-load the camera.
One assistant stepped forward with the new film cassette, another removed the
used one, and in that split second HOLLY made a break for it. With one leap she
disappeared into the darkness of the set to look for TAZ, with me and the film
crew in hot pursuit. I grabbed hold of her just as she found him, rugby
tackling her to the ground where we fell in an undignified heap. "Are you OK?"
they asked anxiously. I brushed myself down, hissing at her through clenched
teeth. "Fine, fine" I said, hauling her back to the set. "Up", I commanded,
"S-I-T. S-T-A-Y" in a tone that dared her to try anything else. She sat,
looking as if butter wouldn't melt, and the second roll of film was shot
without further incident.
We stayed for a cup of tea and a chat, and then it was time to go home. It had
been an exhilarating day and we all basked in the glory of HOLLY's 15 minutes
of fame. The photographs turned out magnificently but - as is so often the case
in Hollywood - her stardom was short-lived. As the Producer Su Armstrong wrote
to me a few weeks later "Sorry to tell you that neither dog is to be featured
in 'RKO 281' - at least that's the way it is at the moment! The vagaries of
stardom - one minute you're hot and in big demand and the next you're forgotten
- hey ho! But, comfort might be able to be taken in the fact that they are not
the only stars to be cut from the final version of the film! So sorry - but
better you hear the news now than being shocked by the omission of 'boy with
dog' when viewing the film!"
