The Heidi Chronicles, Chapter 23: Proper conditions for the working dog

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This is Heidi. She was ‘discovered’ this year in the park by a pet talent agency; since then, she has embarked on a one-dog quest to break into the business. This is her Hollywood story as chronicled by Times staff writer Diane Haithman. And this is her “head shot”: That longing look was the result of seeing a biscuit just out of reach.

After her first stage acting experience at Performing Arts Studio West in Inglewood (see Chapter 22), I couldn’t wait to tell Heidi’s trainer, Sue DiSesso, how well Ms. Big Ears had done working with live actors in an improv situation.

For Heidi, ‘going the distance’ means performing a behavior without insisting on staying close to the person giving the commands (that would be me). Heidi is a herding dog, and that includes people as well as sheep. She favors body contact as a communication tool because sheep are none too bright --probably why very few sheep enter the acting profession.

But at the studio, Heidi went the distance. And Sue was indeed proud of Heidi; it was the person giving her the commands (that would be me) who screwed up.

Our experience at the performing arts studio was a good day for all involved. But I learned from Sue afterward that, had we been on a movie or TV set, I would have been remiss in not making sure that Heidi got a break, for solitude, rest and water, every 20 to 30 minutes.

Instead, because so many people wanted to play a scene with Heidi, we plowed through for more than an hour. Heidi did not have to do anything strenuous -- her role was, basically, to sit and stay -- but that requires brain work, and by the end, Heidi was visibly tired, and thirsty from all the freeze-dried beef liver treats it took to keep her focused.

Acting class is one thing; a Hollywood set is another. Sue, who with late husband Moe DiSesso trained dogs for TV series and movies including ‘Seinfeld,’ ‘Will and Grace’ and the movie version of ‘Annie,’ says the trainer must make sure that the dog has a quiet place to be away from people --in the best case, a dressing room, but at the very least a crate.

Actors, Sue says, always want to play with the dog, forgetting that the dog is working too.

Heidi has a crate at home, first used to transport her by plane from Houston, where she was rescued, later becoming a favorite in-home retreat. When life gets too confusing, Heidi, gives herself a voluntary ‘time out’ (see photo).

It’s a good thing she likes the crate, because Sue adds that, if Heidi becomes a working dog, the studios require that she arrive, crated, inside the vehicle, for her own safety.

Heidi is less enthusiastic about how water is often provided to dogs on the set: Via a bottle attached to the crate -- the kind you see on rat cages, only bigger. I’ve gotten her to take tentative sip when I hold it for her, but she ignores it when it’s on the crate.

Sue also suggested I get a spray bottle, to spray Heidi’s face and footpads to keep her cool under hot lights or when working outdoors in the sun. And when the giant rat bottle isn’t handy, Sue said, Heidi should learn to drink water sprayed into her mouth.

Sue tells the story of two identical Labradors she trained to double for each other; the only way she could tell them apart was to spray them with a hose, because one liked water, and the other hated it. By this method, it wouldn’t be hard to pick Heidi out of a crowd. She has made it very clear that she’s a mountain dog, not a water dog -- unlike her Labrador friends, she avoids swimming pools and won’t dash into the surf unless her ball or stick is in jeopardy.

The look of shock when I tried to spray water into Heidi’s face was truly an Oscar-worthy performance. We’ll have to work on that one.