William Powell, Asta and Myrna Loy: stars of the Thin Man movies I think of him as often as Clark Gable, Roz Russell, or Clifton Webb … which is to say, he comes to mind at least every other day. He made one of the world’s great films better, infusing each of his scenes with charm, poignancy, or humor. He held his own with three notorious hams and one incredibly talented young woman. Yet he is rarely talked about in film buff circles or movie appreciation classrooms. His screen name was Toto, the little black Cairn Terrier carried by Dorothy Gale in The Wizard of Oz. Toto’s real name was Terry. He was trained by Carl Spritz who later referred to him as a “real trooper.” The stories of actors and actresses being injured on the set of Oz are well known, but rarely is it mentioned that Terry suffered an accident as well. According to Aljean Harmetz’s fine book The Making of the Wizard of Oz, Terry was hurt when one of the Wicked Witch of the West’s soldiers accidentally stepped on his paw. (Up until that incident, Terry’s biggest problem had been a wind machine that made it hard to see his trainer’s commands.) After his paw was hurt, Terry was given some time off while the directors shot around him. When I last viewed the film, I found myself amazed by how Terry stays in exactly the correct place in a scene, as if he fully understands a director’s challenge in framing each shot. As Dorothy plucks our heart-strings with “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” Toto stands perfectly still by her side, never once taking our focus off of the divine Miss G. (It’s almost as if Terry knows he is in the presence of genius, but that may just be my personal Garland-mania speaking!) When Toto escapes from the Wicked Witch’s castle and runs to fetch Dorothy’s friends, Terry is every brave dog who puts his human owner’s safety above his own. As the Tin Woodman, the Scarecrow, the Cowardly Lion and Dot skip down the Yellow Brick Road, Terry as Toto steps carefully over the lion’s tail and the other obstacles, keeping his sturdy little legs moving almost in rhythm as they go off to see the Wizard. (I see my own Terrier, Mr. Benny, placed in the same shot. He would simply lie down and glower, as if to say, “Wizard this.”) As much as I like all breeds of dog, Terriers tend to be my favorite movie stars. Even the great Myrna Loy agreed that her co-star was a canine superstar: “Not a day in my life passes without someone asking me about Asta,” she writes in her superb autobiography Being and Becoming. Ms. Loy played one half of the couple who proved that being married could be sexy, smart and slightly tipsy. The series was The Thin Man, and the Wire-Haired Terrier Asta was as important as Nora’s gowns and Nick’s martinis. Although Asta would help solve mysteries, he was excellent in doing exactly opposite of what was asked of him. When the suave Nick (played by William Powell) asked him to sit, he would lie down. When asked to fetch a murder weapon, Asta would most likely decide to stay safely under the bed. Asta was usually played by a dog named Skippy, though other dogs occasionally filled in. Ms. Loy writes that Skippy liked Powell better than he liked her, which makes sense to me as a Terrier owner. My Mr. Benny would rather be with my husband than with me, though I will do if I pay attention to the primary rule: at all times Mr. Benny’s needs come first. Skippy also performed brilliantly in two classic screwball comedies of Hollywood’s Golden Age. In The Awful Truth, he is the bone of contention in a divorce between Irene Dunne and Cary Grant. Grant again co-stars with Skippy in Bringing Up Baby. In Kenneth Angers's Hollywood Babylon 2, there is a photograph of Cary Grant and Randolph Scott in their roommate days feeding a cute terrier some table scraps. I like to think that this meant the fabulous Mr. Grant enjoyed Skippy both on- and offscreen. (If I ever found out he loved dogs as much as some of the stars I’ve interviewed—Alice Faye, Jane Curtain, Tommy Tune, Betty White, Kathryn Grayson, to name a few—Grant would go up a notch in my affection meter, if that were indeed possible!) Though often reduced to a four-letter answer in a crossword grid, Asta remains for me cinema at its best. I once heard a bright person say, “Cats are poetry, dogs are prose.” Since both literary genres are terrific, let’s mention a great movie cat. Pyewacket was the name; Bell, Book and Candle, the film. Kim Novak plays a witch determined to put a love spell on James Stewart, enchanting him forever. Her familiar, Pyewacket, was important as a friend, a confidant and a companion-in-mischief. When Kim Novak was in town a couple of years ago to promote the re-issue of Vertigo, I had to ask her about this talented cat. It turns out that there were quite a few Pyewackets: one who specialized in sitting on Kim’s shoulder, another expertly leaped from table to hanging lamp, and so on. Ms. Novak and I were so into talking about animals (she is married to a vet and deeply loves animals) that my director at the time had to get loud in my earpiece to remind me that she and I were supposed to be talking about Hitchcock. Rent Bell, Book and Candle sometime and enjoy a romantic comedy while paying homage to one (several) great movie cat(s). Other great movies which feature often underrated animal talents include: The Adventures of Milo and Otis, The Mask, Lady and the Tramp, The Birds, National Velvet, Phar Lap, Lassie Come Home, and Down and Out in Beverly Hills. These are just a few of my favorites—I’m sure you have your own. But there is no wrong or right list as long as we all agree that animals enrich our lives everyday, bringing out the very best in us. Hey! Mr. Benny just looked up from his nap and gave me a wink. I guess he thinks I got it right—for once. This article first appeared in Q-SF, 1999. Photograph: MGM Studios HOME | TOP | CONTACT US | ABOUT THE BARK | WEBMASTER