Janey Godley: Even the unwanted Hollywood pups have better teeth than us

Published on Sunday 18 January 2009 18:54

YOU know you are in LA when you meet your first tiny dog dressed in a tutu, wearing sunglasses and pink ballet pumps.

On a street near Ventura Freeway they had an "adopt-a-dog" day. My American pal Andrea and her five-year-old son, Andrew, were looking for a new dog, so she took me along to help them pick a new pet.

Cages were lined up in front of shops and heaps of dogs were barking and bouncing about; it was like a mini dog zoo outside a supermarket. The wee tutu dog sat posing for photos as the bigger dogs ran in circles, biting their own tails, hoping to attract a parent.

They had info cards on the side of the cages and one actually said: "Beano has been raised a Catholic and a vegetarian."

That made me laugh out loud. The poor dog… what did he know about Rome and tofu? He is an animal: he licks his own bits, pees on walls and chews shoes – that's a lot of confessing for one beast. Though, when I said this aloud, the man standing beside the dog frowned at me. Maybe he was giving Beano away as the dog was a lapsed Catholic? I didn't want to ask.

It's a weird thing, but the animals looked 'American' if you know what I mean? None of these dogs looked like they came from The Gorbals; they even had good teeth, and some had better teeth than me!

Then, at the far end of the dog run, I came upon a big, scruffy, tufty, mad-looking multi-breed and, to my delight, it really did look Glaswegian. It jumped up and down, banging its head on the cage wire, disregarded the pain and carried on!

The dogs either side looked on pitifully at the mad mongrel. I was in love with it, but had to say goodbye as it is hard enough trying to take eyebrow tweezers on a transatlantic flight, never mind a big mental dog.

The very last cage contained a small boy and two tiny wee black dogs. The wee lad was playing with the dogs, but five-year-old Andrew gasped when he saw this.

"Janey, why is that boy in that cage?" he asked.

I sniggered and said: "Well, that's what they do to small boys who don't like baths; they give them away on the street."

Andrew was horrified and I quickly realised that was a scary thing to say to five-year old and rectified the story. American kids don't have the same tolerance for Auntie Janey's strange humour. I miss my great niece, wee Abi, as she would have giggled.

A friendly face far from home

I EXPECTED to run into loads of A-list stars during my stay in Los Angeles, but that hasn't been the case. The closest I have got to seeing someone famous was spotting Alan Alda on the boardwalk of the Santa Monica pier: he was taking photos of the ocean, dressed smartly in a suit. He was very cool-looking. I was sweating to death in the blistering heat, trying not to melt. But then, I am Scottish and not used to January being 90F hot.

The strangest meeting was when I spotted an English comedy pal called Paul Chowdhry while walking through Beverly Hills. The last time we met was backstage at Leicester Jongleurs in December.

I walked up to him, held out my sweater and said: "Paul, you left your jumper backstage in the comedy club, so I thought I would bring it to you."

He was stunned! It was nice to see a friendly face, though.

I've got my birthday wish, can we be careful with him?

AMERICA is gripped by Obama fever. 'Obamara' party invites have been doing the rounds. I cannot attend any as I arrive back in Glasgow tomorrow. It is my birthday and I want to spend it with family. I will be laden down with gifts from Los Angeles, because my daughter begged me to get her some West Coast rapper clothing; no doubt I will get the usual wrinkle cream.

It is nice to know my birthday falls on a poignant date; I was born the day John F Kennedy was inaugurated and am just hoping this President has better luck than he had.

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