Sibelle and the Movie Star
I would, on occasion, take Sibelle for a walk. I don't particularly like to walk dogs. I like to let them run free in a fenced yard because it's safer; because they can out-and-out gallop and play; and because walking them is really hard on the bursitis in my left arm.
Sibelle was different from the other inhabitants of our household in that she would gait by my side untethered, foregoing the accepted sled-dog method of dragging me along employed by her cohorts. When Sibelle and I embarked on our evening tour I held the lead folded in my hand, unconcerned, nonchalant, demonstrating I was in charge of the entire situation and had this creature trained to my every nuanced signal. This was completely untrue.
She loved to observe. She took in the different sights and smells ("odors" might also be applicable depending on the location of her research) and absorbed the information with such appreciation, even relish, that it would have been unkind to refuse her these excursions.
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Our house was located within the confines of a "hamlet". In order of descending size and influence; State, county, city, town, village, hamlet ... ant hole. We did have a post office and a library; but the library was privately funded.
Within our tiny hamlet there existed an enclave. It had a rather odd dark woody atmosphere and always reminded me of something out of the Brothers Grimm. Within this special community lived extremely wealthy creative artistic types. The little area did have some housing occupied by established colonial families whose progenitors had accumulated substantial fortunes by unscrupulous means; and because you do run out of entertainers and robber barons, the last of the real estate was topped off by a sprinkling of neurosurgeons and Wall Street attorneys.
Of the artistic types there were some writers and some directors (both theatrical and film) and some movie stars. I don't mean actors; I mean movie stars. We had actors, big Broadway actors with slavish cult followings, but they weren't movie stars. There's a big difference. These were movie stars who shunned the shallow and shop-town atmosphere of California and chose to live on the East Coast. Every so often they would perform in a limited-run Manhattan production to hone their craft.
Some stayed in their estates and were seen only getting into limousines. There were others who would come to the post office and pick up their mail and then disappear back into the forest. They were there, but they were invisible.
There was one, and only one to my knowledge, who liked to take walks. He would venture out from the protection of the mansions and the private security patrols (our local police) and just stroll around the neighborhood. I think it's because he was a New York kid born and bred. New Yorkers like to walk around.
It was inevitable that a dog who liked to walk around and a movie star who liked to walk around would one day cross paths.
Sibelle and I were out observing the macadam in a large selection of driveways when she spotted him. I saw her ears rise and famous eyebrows move into syncopated motion. Her tail came up wagging furiously and she was off like a shot. I, anticipating the consequences of her actions, assumed the position of the completely defeated; shoulders sagging, head down, lungs deflated of air. Clutching my prop leash I went to pull her off the small (in stature, not in accomplishments) movie star.
When I failed to hear any exclamations of surprise or distress or complaint, I lifted my eyes (a little). The movie star was still walking, unassaulted, and unaware. Where was Sibelle? I panned the location (that's movie speak). Where was Sibelle? This was crazy. The movie star looked up and caught my eye, then quickly returned his gaze to the pavement. Oh, he was definitely from New York, that was a dead give-away...unless of course he didn't want to wave to, smile at, or acknowledge a person standing motionless, exhibiting a dazed expression, grasping the leash of an imaginary dog in hand. That could have been another explanation.
Then, there was Sibelle, on the move, darting from behind one bush to the cover of another. The dog was watching the movie star walk from a safe distance. My dog was stalking a movie star. She turned her head backwards and saw me.... the look on her face was "isn't he just the most wonderful thing you've ever seen?" I was wondering if courts issued restraining orders against members of the canine population.
I had no choice but to stay several yards behind Sibelle, and so we progressed : She followed him; I followed her. He finally completed his tour de hamlet and came to the large(r) road separating us from them. She looked back at me, knowing full well one didn't venture across that road. If dogs were able to shrug, she would have. She was happy. She knew where he lived.
We walked home together. We both understood this was something that gave her joy and I wouldn't stop her from following him around, as long as she was discreet. Joy is in very short supply, it is not to be denied.
Several years later the movie star moved back to California. He was aging and he needed to do more films. The transition from leading man to character parts is a difficult one, but necessary for a working actor.
Sibelle took it quite well. She had exhausted her interest in him some time prior to his departure when she noticed rabbits building a warren by the creek. There were many of them and it required infinitely greater skill to document their activities without being noticed.
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