My memories with Mr. Moon

Late one night in July 2003, after many martinis at Musso & Franks and much laughter with my friend Heather Morgan, we were walking home to my apartment in Hollywood. Turning down Whitley Ave., we encountered a very typical Saturday night Hollywood scene, police cars, fire engines, ambulances.  My friend Heather said, “hey look at that  little black dog with a floppy ear running around that police car.”   A man, seemingly homeless, was being arrested and sitting in the back seat of the patrol car. At that time I was living in a Hollywood studio apartment with 3 cats and ending a 2 year stint as a personal assistant for the well-known celebrity dog trainer, Shelby Marlo.

Standing on the corner, looking at the dog and realizing he was with the man being arrested, I became overwhelmed with a sense of concern.  Surely he was going to end up in a shelter.  A bolt of lighting struck. It was as if my mother’s “never leave a stray dog”  gene kicked in, the one I had managed to dodge my entire life. I went up to the officer, gave him my business card and asked if I could take the dog. He agreed. At this point, the little dog jumped into the patrol car and was laying on the man’s lap. He was in bad shape, sputtering gibberish about an alien invasion. I handed him my card and assured him that I would care for his dog and to call me when he was out of trouble.  An officer came with a restraining leash, put it on the dog and we both got out. The man looked at me and loudly announced, “His name is Mr. Moon!”

And away they went, flashing red and blue lights, disappearing down Hollywood blvd.  All the emergency vehicles dispersed.  Suddenly I was alone, in the middle of Whitley Ave. I looked at Mr. Moon, he looked me. I thought, “Now what?”

We both sighed.

That moment changed the entire course of my life.

Heather was watching the scenario, her gleeful smile as I walked over and introduced Mr. Moon.  She immediately belted an improved Ethel Merman style song..Mr. Moon, Mr. Moon, Mr. Moon!!!!  

What am I going to do with this dog?  I have 3 cats in a tiny apartment.  Having no clue as to the history and with 2 years of experience assisting Shelby, my first instinct was to check if the dog was neutered.  I lifted his tail, Mr. Moon whipped his head around as if say “What the # !” No balls.  

The 3 of us sat on the steps of my apartment building, still buzzed from the martinis.  Knowing that Shelby’s house was nearby and offered private boarding and training, I  decided to take Mr. Moon there, at least for the night.