Broadway Tails (27 page)

In December 2011, I got the green light to begin our search for the next Sandy. James Lapine wanted dogs that hadn’t appeared on stage before, and Arielle wanted to publicize our efforts to find them. Dorothy began the search on Petfinder.com, but we ran into an unexpected snag. Generally, we adopt our dogs in Connecticut, New York, or New Jersey. This time, there were very
few medium-sized “Sandy” dogs available for adoption in the tri-state area. I wondered if thirty years of
Annie
on stage had changed the fate of these mixed-breed mutts and made them popular pets. I didn’t have any hard data, but I know for one of just a few times we had to expand our search across the country.

As we started showing dogs to James, Arielle, and Wendy, most didn’t make it past the review. “This one is too big.” “This one is too small.” “This one is cute but not cute enough.” Thanks to the show, dogs that we found in kill shelters and that had no other chances left
were
getting a second chance. I had arranged for the Humane Society of New York to take the dogs that didn’t make it through the search until we could find them homes. So even the dogs who lost the part would win a wonderful new life.

We ended up with four dogs to see in person: one in Indiana and three in Tennessee and Alabama. The first dog I saw was named Bart Starr. He looked just like the original comic strip Sandy, with pointy ears, a curly red coat, and a big smile. He was a feral dog from the Bahamas who was sent to a rescue group in Indiana called Homeward Bound. The group treated him for parasites and heartworm, and when he was healthy he was put up for adoption. They said he was two years old and very friendly.

When I finally met Bart, he was a great dog. Even though he looked nothing like my other Sandys, I said I wanted to take him to New York to audition. When I did, people at the shelter began to cry. Strangely enough, I cried, too. Why was I so moved? I’ve rescued hundreds of dogs, but saying
yes to Bart caught me by surprise. What would my original Sandy think? Would he approve? I somehow felt his presence on that day and knew I was on the right path and everything would be alright with Bart.

The other three dogs were all in kill shelters. After meeting them I decided two of them, Sydney and Billy, were too shy to be performers. I need dogs that come charging out of the gate to meet people. Sometimes, I can work with a shy dog if we have enough time, but
Annie
was on a very tight schedule. Rehearsal time was limited, and there was no pre-Broadway tour to learn the part and get used to the crowds. We arranged for the shelters to keep Sydney and Billy until they could be adopted. If there were any issues, they promised I could take the dogs to the Humane Society of New York for adoption there.

Porky was a very different story.

Porky was a stray when she came into the shelter in Columbia, Tennessee. The shelter had no luck placing her. In this rural area, people tend to have either working dogs or hunting dogs. As a large terrier who needed a lot of training, attention, and exercise, Porky was the wrong dog in the wrong place.

Porky did actually make it out of the shelter for a while. A local high school boy brought her home as part of a program in which students take care of dogs and try to find them homes. When the program was over, the boy had wanted to adopt Porky, but the family already had a dog. Even though the two animals had gotten along well, the boy’s parents didn’t want a second dog.

So Porky went back to the shelter, and her time ran out.

She was led into the euthanasia room and placed on the table. The vet tech prepared the injection and was about to administer the shot. At the last second, Porky slipped free of her collar and jumped into the arms of a prison inmate, a trustee who had been in charge of her care at the shelter. He begged them to spare her life. Everyone was so moved that they agreed to give her forty-eight more hours.

And that’s where we came into the story. The shelter didn’t put a listing for Porky on Petfinder.com. Instead, Sonya Dickson Rine, the president of the local rescue group, Pet Pals, sent out an emergency message to an animal rescue e-mail list. The first part of the message was written from Porky’s point of view and included a picture of her poking her head out of the window of a big, black car. It said:

Following this was an entreaty by the staff members at the shelter:

The message was forwarded to my wife. Dorothy forwarded it to me. I sent it to Wendy and Arielle. Their reaction was immediate. Wendy replied: “Her story, her face. This one is so special. It’s like she lived just for us.”

Arielle agreed. We would rescue Porky, even if she wasn’t right for the show.

When I contacted Sonya, at first she thought it was a prank. She and the shelter workers had no idea that a revival of
Annie
was in the works and that we were conducting a search. When I convinced them that I really was who I said I was and that I wanted to see Porky, they immediately put her in a foster home until I could get to Tennessee.

When I arrived, the shelter workers and volunteers treated me a like a hero. Then they brought out Porky, and I knew we had made the right decision. She was happy and friendly, impressing me with her personality. Again I thought about my original Sandy, who was also just hours away from being put down when I found him. I knew, like him, Porky had beaten the odds and could be a winner. When I said I wanted to bring her to New York as a candidate, there were smiles and tears all around. It became a big story and was even covered on the local news.

By February 2012, we had two good candidates, Bart and Porky, for James and Arielle. During the process, one of the show’s sponsors asked if we could look in its targeted markets. Two weeks after we ended the search, we decided to give it one more try. Dorothy spent the weekend doing another search in those cities and found one more dog. She had eyes that reminded me of my original Sandy, she was in a kill shelter in Houston called BARC, and she had less than twenty-four hours to live. She was a stray that was in pretty good condition but she had lacerations on her back left leg that needed medical attention. I instantly called the shelter, spoke to a manager,
and put a twenty-four-hour hold on the dog. After consulting Arielle, I had a former handler in Houston, Jennifer James, rescue her on my behalf. The shelter immediately had her spayed and her leg treated for us. She had been listed as “Bruno,” but we changed her name to Sunny. In my head I felt the sun would come out for her, whether she ever performed or not.

Jennifer starting telling me how great she was. I recommended Sunny as a candidate. Arielle and Wendy wanted her in New York for the audition the following week, but there was a two-week quarantine for ground transport. When I told Arielle, she said, “Do whatever it takes to get her here.”

I contacted Rob Cox, another one of my former handlers in Tucson. He flew to Houston, rented a car, picked up Sunny, and drove three days to New York, where she was triaged at the Humane Society of New York and given a clean bill of health. We now had three good candidates for the role of Sandy. Besides my three fully trained Sandy dogs at home, I now had three young, untrained dogs that immediately bonded with each other. Watching them run free and safe from harm in my backyard gave me a lot of joy.

On March 11, 2012, there was a final audition for Sandy. Bart Starr, Porky (now named Casey), and Sunny were ready. We drove the dogs to New York City and met with James and Arielle and the whole
Annie
production team. Everyone had been following the dogs’ stories and looked in awe at these three beautiful creatures. After falling in love with all three, James had to make a hard choice.

James felt that audiences might not accept Bart Starr because he didn’t look like the stage version of Sandy. It’s funny for me to think that we worried that my original Sandy didn’t look enough like the cartoon dog, and now Harold Gray’s Sandy isn’t as recognizable as the image of the dog I found and trained thirty-five years ago. That left Sunny and Casey.

As the room waited for the final call, James eventually said, “I can’t decide. Train them both and come back in a month.”

It looked like I had to prepare for one last Sandy callback. Bart Starr was adopted by a dear friend of ours. I continued basic training with Casey and Sunny. Both of them were on track and doing very well when I noticed something a little off about Casey’s movement. First, when I was teaching her “sit,”
she would sit on one hip instead of square on her hind legs. Second, there was a clicking sound in her hips as she sat. And finally, she hopped when she ran. Only someone working with her very closely would notice such subtleties. I took Casey to two vets, did two sets of X-rays, and had our home vet and his orthopedic teams look at the findings. The diagnosis was that Casey had mild hip dysplasia in her left hip and a luxating patella in her right leg. I felt myself getting very emotional. How could this young dog be so damaged? My vet explained that it was hereditary, but there was good news. Her hips could be treated with supplements and therapy, and with surgery we could repair her knee and she could be the understudy. Not only had we saved Casey’s life, but we could also provide her with a pain-free existence. I informed Arielle and James, and they gave their blessing to Sunny becoming our new Sandy.

As of this writing, Sunny is in the last stages of training for Sandy. Casey is in physical therapy and soon will be back in training as the understudy. After a nationwide search, the production found its new Annie, a talented young actress by the name of Lilla Crawford, and in August we’ll begin rehearsals for the show. I know she and Sunny will go down in theater history as a great team. Sunny and Casey—and Bart Starr, Sydney, and Billy—have entered a long list of dogs, cats, and other animals whose lives were saved through the wonder of Broadway.