It’s true, I’ve been in a lot of movies.  Escape from the Pound, the Lost series (Lost in Yellowstone, Lost in the Rockies, Lost in the Florida Keys, Lost in the Badlands), The Person Whisperer, Go Hurry Up, Sit Stay Bark–and countless others that I’m sure you’re aware of so I don’t have to mention them here.

The tough thing about being an actor is that basically you’re just waiting for someone else to make a movie.  Nothing is up to me.  People know I’m the best dog actor in North America, of course–I’m hardworking, bright, and I can read, write, and speak English–but me working depends on someone else writing  movie with a dog in it.  And as you can see from this gracious home I live in with my bitch Connie, things have worked out pretty well for me.  For us.

Honestly though, what I really want to do is direct.  I’ve been working on a screenplay.  I guess you could say it’s autobiographical.  It’s called (working title) In Case of Fire and it’s about how when I was younger, I lived with a family and one night there was a fire, and I smelled it first and so I woke up the whole family and got them all out of there safe.  Which was great, but then because the house burned to the ground and the family had to go live in a subsidized apartment for the next two years while they went through the whole process of insurance and whatnot, they couldn’t keep me and so I ended up in the pound.  Yeah.  So I’m working on that. I guess what I learned from that whole experience was, Don’t Expect Anything.  If I had it to do over today, would I still save the family, knowing what I know?  I mean, I guess I would.  I would just feel differently about it while I was doing it.  And I might just go straight over to the neighbors’ house instead of assuming the family was going to take me along.  You’ve got to take care of yourself first.

Do I regret my time in the pound?  No.  It wasn’t ideal, and yet the pound is where I really met all the characters that inspired me to become an actor.  Zup, the fat Chihuahua who knew how to stand up on his hind legs and walk like a person—Socks, the beagle mix who howled from 2 to 3 am every day and would only eat the cheese off the top of his food, not the rest of it—Cary, the wolfhound who was mostly silent but when he said something—look out.  It was going to knock you over every time.

And I learned patience in the pound, I suppose.  I also learned how to bite when I need to.  And how to make a newspaper on a concrete floor feel like a real bed.

No, actually, I don’t hear from the family.  I hear that they’ve moved on, and gotten another dog.  Actually a couple of them.  Smaller housedogs, you know, the hypoallergenic kind.  The kind of dogs that are actually more like cats.  Maybe they just don’t want to remember the fire, I don’t know.  For me, it’s like, hey, life happens–you look at it and you go ‘okay’ and you keep going.  But I guess some people feel differently about it.  Some people need the comfort of cat-dogs and I guess, who am I to judge?  I’m just a dog. And not even a hypoallergenic one.

Anyway that’s all in the screenplay.   I’m in talks with my agent right now, who is showing it around at studios.  We’re generating some buzz and that’s never a bad thing.  Speaking of buzz, I need to get some coffee in me.  And Connie is making some sausage links with toast, so I should get over there.  See you at the movies–