Magic and Fur: The Magic of My Dogs on Stage Part 1
Juneau and Kindernacht
I had plans to write about my beautiful pets, who were my family, who traveled with me worldwide and lived with me on several different continents, performing on stage alongside me and Jonathan. Part 1 was almost completed when I ran across KW Norton Borders' post about our relationship with our canines. Pictured were two incredibly beautiful malamutes reminding me of Kindernacht, my beloved malamute (an Alaskan Arctic dog related to the Arctic wolf). At one time, before I adopted our Samoyed Juneau pictured above, we also had a male Malamute named Dami, which famous illusion builder Les Smith and his wife Gertrude (Owens Magic fame) fell in love with and connected so deeply with him that their home became his. So this is why I mentioned in my post I once owned two malamutes. Over the years, all my beautiful dogs have given me incredible companionship and love for decades. Their story begins:
He looked up at me with deep, soulful brown eyes shimmering with hope behind the bars of his enclosure at the Los Angeles City East Valley Animal Shelter in Van Nuys, California. He was scheduled to be destroyed that day, and I was his only hope for freedom. The Samoyed Rescue lady who accompanied me to the shelter to secure his release didn’t have the space or money to bail him out that day. Serendipitously, I phoned her the day before inquiring about possibly adopting a Sammy. None were available, except the one I was locking eyes with at the kennel. On the phone, she informed me that the owners had relinquished him to animal control because he had barked and dug holes when they were away at work all day. The staff called her so she could rescue him, but she had no transportation or immediate funds for his discharge, and the situation appeared bleak. She told me I was the answer to her prayers when called. I thought she might exaggerate, but I stopped by her modest home filled with happy barking dogs in North Hollywood the next day to find her without a car and probably living on her meek social security retirement. I picked her up, and we drove to Van Nuys to check out the Sammy. Like a character out of a movie, her outgoing personality caused her to engage in lively “unedited” discussions during our twenty-minute trek, where, at one point, she asked me why I drove a foreign car instead of an American model. I wasn’t sure what to answer her, except the car worked great, and that’s all I cared about, but at the time, it was a hot political topic. She wasn’t afraid of spirited debate, but I wasn’t into debating, so I changed the subject to a rescue mission. Hers was not well funded, but she loved dogs and gave her life to rescue them, which added an extra layer to her colorful personality. Although she’d hadn’t seen this Sammy yet, I contemplated rescuing him anyway. She built him up as if she'd raised him from a puppy, complimenting his disposition, personality, and beauty.
Finally, everybody knew her when she arrived at the kennel and went in the door. After greeting and hugging, we were escorted to the run area, which always stresses me out because I would love to have seen them all adopted, but I knew that wasn’t reality as I looked straight ahead, ignoring their barking pleas. Some were happy, some sad, but most seemed desperate. We walked past about a dozen dogs before finding the Sammy everyone hoped I’d rescue.
Now, I'm the sort who thinks with my heart when it comes to animals and kids, so there is no way I could turn down rescuing this dog as he stared at me with happy yelps, which morphed into hopeless and frantic short barks with sadness. I wasn't picking him. He was choosing me. Before the door of his kennel opened for further examination, I turned to everyone and said, “Yes, I’ll take him home. I'm his.” I heard sighs of relief and cries of joy, and we all celebrated his union with me. I was told it is not easy, and prospective owners often turn down dogs, giving the staff various reasons for passing on the adoption. I couldn't turn away from this less-than-perfect Sammy (as far as aesthetics, he was a bit on the thin side and in obvious need of love). When I said yes, a big Sammy smile, a trait this breed is known for, filled his face, and his eyes sparkled with joy. My smile and tone of voice must have registered within his canine intuition. He knew he was going home. In the parking lot, he jumped in the back of the car and immediately curled up in a ball in the back area of my Nissan 240ZX. As I drove, the lady who brought me home, I could almost feel the rhythm of his breath, steady and calm. After dealing with stress for a day and a half, he was ready to rest. I remember he didn’t move it all, Daria, our trip back to that lady‘s house. Once she was dropped off, he raised his head and kissed me all over my face as we drove back to my home in Orange County in Fullerton. I could feel his gratitude and love from his solid and unstoppable licks as he happily panted in between his wet, beautiful kisses. He knew I was his new person, Mama.
