Fellow Citizens:
The other day, Andy announced that his crew was preparing to shoot an advertisement for a brand of potentially poisonous cat treats made in China. His client was looking for 5 playful cats to be photographed in all kinds of cute positions.
Andy suggested that Marshall (our 7 year old cat) audition. My reply was “Are you kidding?” Marshall is an anti-social cat and only enjoys playing with pencils in the middle of my desk while I’m trying to work. Plus, he’s a killer. Andy’s response was that Marshall’s physique (lean and athletic…very Cat GQ) was perfect for the part. Also, the chosen cats are paid $75.00 per hour. Me: “$75 an hour? Why didn’t you say so?”
On Thursday Andy came home without notice and announced “It’s time. Where’s Marshall?” I replied “I don’t know…he could be anywhere including under the deck removing the head of a half-dead bird.” We found him sleeping peacefully in a chair. Andy scooped him up and dropped him in the carrier. Marshall was dazed and confused and probably thought “I’m not puking all over the house so why am I going to the vet?”
As Andy was hurrying out the door with carrier in hand, I’m spurting out warnings like “he needs to wake up!”, “he needs to be brushed!”, “he’s not ready!”, “don’t lose him!!”…
Andy: “There’s no time for brushing and if he gets the part he’ll go through make-up.”
About an hour later, Andy and Marshall return from the photo studio. He bombed the audition.
First, he wouldn’t leave the carrier and actually burrowed under the towel. Andy pried him out but Marshall kept returning to the carrier with his face planted firmly in the corner. He refused eye contact. Andy finally put the carrier away and Marshall proceeded to flatten himself and slink along the floor as if in combat. No amount of feather dusters or other photographer tricks worked. At last, he crawled under the paper back-drop and growled. Yes, growled like the wild animal he is.
Friday. Andy reports that all but three local cats (mostly employee pets) totally blew their auditions. It seems there was a pattern with growling under the back-drop.
The locals that pulled it off were playful but are questionable for “the look.” The client wants more cats so now they are bringing in professionals from L.A. Union cats with screen actor guild cards and handlers. Cost? $15,000! They also require one day of rest when they get to Dallas (and sardine-flavored green M&Ms at the hotel). Aaron (in Opa-esque fashion): “Oh, give me a break” and “For $15,000, I’ll go find a litter of playful kittens near a dumpster.”
Then it dawned on me. “Why wasn’t I given the chance to be Marshall’s handler?” I could have worked a little stage-motherly magic (with hidden cat nip). Andy’s “chop-chop-chop” surely didn’t help matters.
There’s more. I found out that not only are they casting for cats but for real people “mother-types” to play with the cats. Me: “Why didn’t I get a chance to audition for the cat’s mother?” Andy: “We needed attractive thirty-somethings.” Ouch. Aaron: “Mom, I would cast you.” Me: “Shut up, Aaron.”
Obviously Marshall and I don’t meet the clients’ needs but if there is ever a client out there that needs a martini-drinking cat, we’ll nail it. Marshall loves olives and I could join him for happy hour.
Andy suggested that Marshall (our 7 year old cat) audition. My reply was “Are you kidding?” Marshall is an anti-social cat and only enjoys playing with pencils in the middle of my desk while I’m trying to work. Plus, he’s a killer. Andy’s response was that Marshall’s physique (lean and athletic…very Cat GQ) was perfect for the part. Also, the chosen cats are paid $75.00 per hour. Me: “$75 an hour? Why didn’t you say so?”
On Thursday Andy came home without notice and announced “It’s time. Where’s Marshall?” I replied “I don’t know…he could be anywhere including under the deck removing the head of a half-dead bird.” We found him sleeping peacefully in a chair. Andy scooped him up and dropped him in the carrier. Marshall was dazed and confused and probably thought “I’m not puking all over the house so why am I going to the vet?”
As Andy was hurrying out the door with carrier in hand, I’m spurting out warnings like “he needs to wake up!”, “he needs to be brushed!”, “he’s not ready!”, “don’t lose him!!”…
Andy: “There’s no time for brushing and if he gets the part he’ll go through make-up.”
About an hour later, Andy and Marshall return from the photo studio. He bombed the audition.
First, he wouldn’t leave the carrier and actually burrowed under the towel. Andy pried him out but Marshall kept returning to the carrier with his face planted firmly in the corner. He refused eye contact. Andy finally put the carrier away and Marshall proceeded to flatten himself and slink along the floor as if in combat. No amount of feather dusters or other photographer tricks worked. At last, he crawled under the paper back-drop and growled. Yes, growled like the wild animal he is.
Friday. Andy reports that all but three local cats (mostly employee pets) totally blew their auditions. It seems there was a pattern with growling under the back-drop.
The locals that pulled it off were playful but are questionable for “the look.” The client wants more cats so now they are bringing in professionals from L.A. Union cats with screen actor guild cards and handlers. Cost? $15,000! They also require one day of rest when they get to Dallas (and sardine-flavored green M&Ms at the hotel). Aaron (in Opa-esque fashion): “Oh, give me a break” and “For $15,000, I’ll go find a litter of playful kittens near a dumpster.”
Then it dawned on me. “Why wasn’t I given the chance to be Marshall’s handler?” I could have worked a little stage-motherly magic (with hidden cat nip). Andy’s “chop-chop-chop” surely didn’t help matters.
There’s more. I found out that not only are they casting for cats but for real people “mother-types” to play with the cats. Me: “Why didn’t I get a chance to audition for the cat’s mother?” Andy: “We needed attractive thirty-somethings.” Ouch. Aaron: “Mom, I would cast you.” Me: “Shut up, Aaron.”
Obviously Marshall and I don’t meet the clients’ needs but if there is ever a client out there that needs a martini-drinking cat, we’ll nail it. Marshall loves olives and I could join him for happy hour.
CitizenB
