God Drives a Tow Truck (18 page)

I settled down in the pew in front of them, and listened to Martha's beautiful eloquence expressing her deep faith.  As always, in the face of great suffering and intense need, I was struck mute, and all I could think to add was that God would shower Melanie with His love, and that she would be comforted. After Martha left, Melanie and I chatted a few more minutes, and then she left too. I hurried into my seat before someone else claimed it. I listened to the sermon, half my mind chastising myself for falling so short of what was needed. How much I would have loved to have said or felt, or
done
something that would have eased Melanie's pain and burden. How dismally far I had missed the mark. 
Again
, my best was not enough, despite my desire to help.
As church ended I filed out with the congregation, and saw Joanne, another acquaintance I had not seen in a year or so. We looked at each other and laughed -- she was wearing my sweater!
"Ah, you helped the starving Bolivians too!" I said.
"Yes," she chortled, “And my friend Melanie exchanged phone numbers with her."
I stood still in wonder.
"Melanie? Why did she exchange phone numbers?"
"Well, she asked the lady if she believed in Jesus, and the lady said she was a Jew,
but
she had just met a woman who told her Jews
could
believe in Jesus."
I stared at Joanne.
"That was me!" I cried, "Melanie was an answer to prayer! I was so upset that I had not told her enough to lead her to Jesus! God used Melanie as an answer to my prayer! Come on, we have to tell Melanie."
So Joanne and I, in our loud matching rainbow sweaters went racing through the church campus searching for Melanie. I noticed many people pointing at us and laughing. The sweaters were not subtle, particularly in tandem.
We found Melanie, who laughed when she saw us approaching like technicolor Bobsey twins. A crowd was around her as we told her the story, how she had been an answer to prayer, how God had used her to cover my inadequacies.
I don't know if the knowledge of being used so directly by God in such a serendipitous way eased Melanie's burden or not. I do know it eased mine. Like each colorful thread on my Bolivian sweater, no one was alone, nor so beautiful as when woven together.

Chapter Twenty Seven

The Day Lucky Pawed At the Stars

Zechariah 4:10

¹⁰
“Who dares despise the day of small things, since the seven eyes of the LORD that range throughout the earth will rejoice when they see the chosen capstone

The email advertised the need for a mutt who could lie on a couch for a television commercial. The clouds had opened, and God was pointing a finger right at our Terrier mix, who excels in laziness.  Were the scene to require a scintilla of talent, obedience, or movement, I would not have given it a second glance, but Lucky can out-lazy the laziest dog. Lying on a couch looking cute was what he did best. So I sent the agent Lucky's picture, and promptly forgot about it. I had applied with no expectation of success. Lucky is so stubborn that the idea of him doing anything to a national audience
on cue
was laughable.
I was shocked to receive an email that night, informing us that he was chosen for the commercial. We were instructed to arrive at 6:30 a.m., with the dog fully prepared to lie on a couch. To my surprise, we were to be paid for it! I would've done it for free, but I didn't tell anyone that.
Lucky immediately began preparing for his role as specified for the TV shoot in the early morning. He listened with a cocked ear as I read the instructions out loud to him, "Lazy brown dog to lie on couch". He remained in character all night long.

At 5 a.m., as my daughter, Asherel, and I prepared to leave, Lucky wanted more time to practice being lazy. He didn’t seem at all convinced it was a good time for his day to begin. However, he ate breakfast, and while the moon was still shining, we ventured off with handfuls of hotdogs and water for the star.
When we arrived, we saw the cast already filming. They had been there since 4 a.m., we were told. They were gathered in the enormous front yard of a gigantic, beautiful mansion, which is where we would be doing the famous and highly crucial couch scene. As we pulled in among the thronging crowd, we gaped at the huge trucks, bright lights, and a massive green screen stretched across an enormous empty field. People waved and shouted, "Is that Lucky?!" No one had even met him yet, and he was already famous. I realized that fame
is
all it is cracked up to be, as I soaked in the adulation.
He waved his ears at his adoring minions, as we were directed where to park. We were immediately introduced to the assistant director, shortly after I took a photograph. I figured I'd better take a picture and
then
ask if it was allowed. It was not, so it was the last picture we snapped of Lucky's debut. The assistant director, AD, to seasoned movie stars like us, asked if Lucky would like to meet his co-stars, the children.
"He does like children, doesn’t he?" she asked.
"He loves kids!" I said.
The two little girls came out to pet Lucky, who completely ignored them. My friendly dog didn’t wag his tail, look at the little girls, lick them, or even acknowledge their existence. He stood as though comatose. Where was my friendly dog's verve and charm? The AD seemed concerned.

“He’s tired,” I explained, “Which is, after all, his main qualification for this commercial, right?”
Neither the little girls, nor the AD laughed.
Our casting "agent" then arrived, and told us Lucky was very cute. He asked me to show him what Lucky could do.
DO
????
Excuse me but this role called for a dog that would lie on a couch. That was it. What was this "
do
" nonsense?
So I told Lucky to sit. He glared at me, also remembering that all he had been practicing was lying on a couch and being lazy.
"He's a little tired," I explained.
"SIT", I growled. Lucky slowly sat.
"Does he lie down?" asked the agent.
"Lucky, lie down.
Lucky, lie down
!"
Grudgingly Lucky lay down, and then stood back up immediately.
"Does he play dead?" asked the agent.  I suspected not, judging from his sterling obedience thus far. And, truth be told, we had never taught him to play dead. But I must say, I did want to kill him at that moment.

The little girls, bored with Lucky, walked away. The AD scurried after them. This did not bode well, given that Lucky had to earn his spot, I was now informed. The backup dog had arrived. I saw the owner get out of the car with her dog, and in dismay, recognized her. She was the obedience teacher at our dog club. We had met her during our classes with our other dog, Honeybun. It may surprise you that Lucky had
never
attended an obedience class. Now, he was to be pitted against the obedience teacher's dog for his coveted first (read:
only
) shot at fame and fortune.
"You wait over by the food table," the agent commanded me, as he greeted Brandi, the well behaved dog.  I peered over as the little girls fawned all over Brandi, who licked them and placed her paw softly, endearingly on their arms. Then I saw her go through a series of impressive tricks for the agent.  Lucky did not watch. He was too busy pooping on the lawn.
Now came the exciting part of any TV shoot- hours of interminable waiting while not being allowed to go anywhere. When the director wants you, you must be there. Lucky lay down. I had fed him a huge breakfast so he would be bloated and content to peacefully lie on the couch for the scene. I was informed that the director would eventually look at both dogs, and choose one. I wondered who might impress him more.
Lucky was clearly the fatter, lazier dog, quietly snoring at our feet. He did have that going for him. Brandi was friendly, obedient, and awake. It was going to be a nail biting moment of decision.
"He's very mellow," said the agent, returning to our side, “By the way, there has been a change. Now Lucky will be running and playing with the girls and chasing a ball in that field."
Lucky opened one eye, as his full stomach gurgled and sloshed.  I could see he was thinking, "This was
not
in the contract...."
Meanwhile, I was calculating exactly how many seconds it would take for my unleashed dog to discover the field was unfenced. This was disconcerting news.

“Just to clarify, he is to play, unleashed, in that unfenced field that backs up to that busy highway?”

The agent nodded, "He
will
do that, won't he?"
"Oh sure," I said, "I am sure he will." Asherel nodded with me, and we tried not to look at each other. The last time Lucky had been in an unfenced field, there had been a lot of squealing brakes and sliding cars across the four lanes of traffic that miraculously missed him.
And then I saw the director glancing at Lucky, conferring with the AD. He then looked over at Brandi, the trained, nice dog.
The director and the AD came over and looked closely at Lucky.  They whispered with animated waves of their arms, and then nodded and told me to get Lucky on the field.
I hurried to the field, tugging Lucky behind me. I was not given any training time or instructions, just told to unleash the dog and let him play with the kids. I prayed quickly, and unsnapped the leash.
"Off the field!" bellowed the director at me.
"Throw him the ball and call his name," I whispered quickly to the little girls, who looked frightened. I hurried off the field.
So they called his name and tossed the ball. He stood and watched it bounce away. This went on several moments. Finally I scurried over and showed them how to get his interest first. The director was furious, "Cut! Keep the trainer off the field!"
I scuttled back, but continued to pantomime to the girls who had clearly
never
played with a dog. Finally, Lucky glanced at them, and they flung the ball. Like a shot he was off, barreling past the ball, racing around the field, oblivious to his co-stars. He circled the field twice, then raced towards the cameras. He finally came close enough for me to tackle him.
Meanwhile, the agent had sidled near and told me that because the director had picked Lucky first, that was a pretty clear sign he was the one they wanted for the shoot. I spit a clump of grass out of my mouth.
"Get the dog back on the field!" shrieked the director.
I threw a hotdog towards the little girls, and Lucky sprinted after it. He wolfed that down and the girls continued to toss the ball and try to make him play with them. He was only interested in finding more hot dogs.

One little girl sighed loudly, with exasperation. So did the director.
Finally, after an hour or so of intermittent bursts of play from Lucky, I threw a stick out towards the little clueless starlets. Lucky raced after the stick, just as the girl grabbed it. They wrestled and tugged. She chased him...and the director shouted, "Beautiful!"
He then instructed us to wait on the side. I feared Brandi was about to be called in. But instead, they began moving cameras, scaffolds, and props, and the agent told me they were thinking of shooting the whole thing over again, from a tree. Lucky lay at my side panting, his full stomach distended.
"Do you think he will play some more?" asked the agent dubiously, glancing at the fallen hero.
"Oh sure," said Asherel,"I think
maybe
..." We all looked at Lucky, who groaned and laid his head on the ground.
An hour later, during which time we sat watching the set being dissembled, the agent's walkie-talkie crackled.
"Lucky is a wrap- we are moving downtown now to walk the other dog."
So apparently, they were happy with Lucky's footage and Brandi was going to be in a different scene walking by the Charlotte skyscrapers. She would be allowed to remain on leash.
I was glad, as I liked Brandi's owner, Patty, and I felt her good dog had been robbed of the lead role. I was pleased she was also being given a part in the commercial.
We collected our money and loaded back into the car.
"Goodbye Lucky!” called the crew.
The agent asked me to fill out a form, saying he would use Lucky again "in a heartbeat". He was now officially a
professional
canine actor. Lucky collapsed on the seat as we drove home, his tongue lolling about, and he heaved a huge sigh. Stardom was exhausting.

I was happy for Lucky. Our other dog was an agility dog, and was a willing and obedient, teachable creature. She received a lot of attention, and had usurped Lucky’s lone dog status when we found her two years ago. Lucky had never shown much aptitude for anything besides being extremely talented at escaping from our yard. I wondered if he ever felt dejected that he had no claim to fame, no special job like Honeybun. But
none
of us had ever been in a television commercial. Lucky alone was the media star in our family. Ultimately, Lucky’s scene was cut from the commercial. It didn’t matter.