15 Minutes of Fame

I, Henry the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel who descends from royalty, have found my calling!

Not to mention what promises to be my ticket back to the royal throne!

Dr. Marvil and I co-star in a video to be featured at an upcoming conference for veterinarians. In other words, don’t expect to see this in a theater near you anytime soon.

For, fame has shined its light upon me.

Though, Cook, saucy woman that she is, insists it’s only my 15 minutes of fame.

Fifteen minutes? Hardly.

“Madam,” I say. “Were you to ask me, I’d color you green. Green with envy.”

To which Cook replies, “Henry, you’re just a dog. A dog with as much talent as I have in my thumb. Now, get in the car.”

Cook can be rather trying at times. Which is why, I do my usual thing and pretend not to hear her as I climb into the car. I assume we’re on our way to find me an agent.

“Carry on, Cook,” is all I say.

I soon realize, though, that isn’t the plan. She’s not taking me to Hollywood. Instead, we are running the usual errands, to the post office and other innocuous spots that have nothing to do with either me or helping me climb the ladder to stardom.

Sigh.

As I lick my wounds, I remember how it all began, my journey to fame and fortune. Seems so long ago, but it was just the day before, when we received a telephone call from Dr. Marvil, the royal vet.

I had just finished my breakfast, and was about to embark on my morning constitutional, when the telephone rang. Cook answered the call and talked for what seemed like an eternity, thus setting me on a barking rampage, as I don’t like it when Cook’s attention is averted from yours truly.

“Hurry up, Cook!” I barked.

“Stop it, Henry!” was her response. “I can’t hear what Dr. Marvil is trying to say!”

When she finally got off the call, she said, “Henry! Dr. Marvil is going to be featured in a film that will be shown at a national veterinarians’ conference this fall—and you are to be in it!  Of all his patients, Dr. Marvil has chosen you to star in the video with him!

Me? I mean, moi? To star in my very own video? (Albeit, with Dr. Marvil.)

Dr. Marvil and I, along with his technician, share a private moment on the set of, ahem, our latest film. Yes, that’s it.

In that moment, it was easy to picture my name up in lights but, was I ready for my close-up?

“Cook!” I shouted. “Get me to the royal groomer at once!”

Of course, she ignored me. Instead, we went straight away to see Dr. Marvil. And when we arrived, I was crushed to learn that there was no time for makeup or a fitting. Which meant, I would have to rely on my own wits and brilliance, along with my gleaming, white teeth, which I would flash at the camera.

Upon arrival, I was thrust into an empty room, where Dr. Marvil sees his patients. As I waited for Dr. Marvil and the film crew to appear, I wondered, when do I speak? What are my lines?

Will I get a chance to rehearse?

Suddenly, a team of filmmakers rushed in.  And, by a team, I mean two—one holding the camera and the other grasping the boom mic. Dr. Marvil and his associate entered from a side door.

All eyes were soon upon me. Was I expected to say something clever and pithy? Perhaps quote Shakespeare?

As I steadied my trembling voice—for I was nervous, after all—I let out a brief cough and, in my best baritone, I recited MacBeth.

“If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown—“

“No, no!” barked the cameraman. “Silence, Dog!”

His alarming voice took me aback. How dare he speak to a Cavalier King Charles in that manner! Didn’t he know I descended from royalty?

I shook my head in dismay. So, no lines then? Fine. You win this time, Cameraman. I’ll wait for the video to go viral, and when that happens, I’ll be up to my ears with offers for speaking roles. That will show him!

“Now, Dr. Marvil,” the cameraman said pointedly. “You were saying?”

Dr. Marvil began to speak, while he poked and prodded at me. I cannot recall what he said, but no doubt he was speaking highly of me, and how I was a model patient.

Later, I asked Cook how much I was to get from my first gig.

“Nothing, Henry. You got 15 minutes of fame and now it’s over.  On the plus, you did get a free checkup.”

“Nothing? No beaucoup bucks? Cook, how am I expected to travel to take my place at the royal throne, with nothing but a free checkup?”

“Beats me, Henry,” was her cavalier reply.

Sigh, I really do need to get me an agent.