Pet owners and their pals show off ‘stupid’ tricks

Kimberley McGee

Monday, Jan. 29, 2001 | 8:58 a.m.

Before reality shows made prime-time television a voyeuristic playground, David Letterman created a comedy bit that has stood the test of time.

Real people. Real pets.

Real fun.

The staff of "The Late Show with David Letterman" was in town last week auditioning locals and their pets for Stupid Pet and Human Tricks, the longest-running bit on the "The Late Show," which airs weeknights at 11:30 on KLAS Channel 8.

On a recent night a handful of Las Vegans and their pets waited in the parking lot of the Channel 8 studios to audition for the show.

Only two people showed up to show off their human tricks. One smacked her bottom with her feet over her head while humming "Old McDonald," and the other popped a quarter into her cleavage from her outstretched hand. Neither made the cut.

Meanwhile as the group of pet owners gathered there were smiles, handshakes and a friendly verbal exchange describing their precious pets' talents.

Among the 10 dogs that came to audition were a motorcycle-riding Bichon Frise named Yo; a dachshund, Sahlen, with a penchant for applying lotion to herself; a flatulent Labrador retriever named Duchess; Abby, the piggyback-riding Great Dane; and a pit bull, Rexi-boy, who enjoyed eating pasta a la the famous scene from the Disney movie "Lady in the Tramp" sucked right from his owner's mouth.

Then there was my blue-eyed Siberian husky, Jake. He throws his head back and screams what sounds like, "Whhyyyy?," but not always on command.

As the waiting went on, the people -- and dogs -- sized each other up.

While Deborah Huber's husband, Dick, calmed the barking Yo, she eyed the competition.

"There's a dog that farts, but our dog is really cute, so, as Dave says on the show, 'This is just an exhibition, not a competition, so no wagering,' " Huber joked.

She worried aloud about some of the other dogs, with a glimmer of competitive spirit in her eye, but quickly composed herself.

"I don't care if we get on (TV), I just want to meet Dave (Letterman)," Huber said.

A few good dogs

"You'd think these people would be lighthearted and having fun," Bill Langworthy, a "The Late Show" executive, said. "But they get really competitive."

Langworthy has auditioned pets for the Letterman show for the last three years. He travels to cities around the country hosting auditions six times a year.

The pet trick bit was originally Letterman's idea for his 1980 self-titled NBC morning show in New York.

"Dave is fantastic with animals," Langworthy said. "He has dogs of his own. He loves animals."

Which could be the reason why Letternman remained so calm last year when a dog took a nip out of his famous face.

"Dave had to go to commercial bleeding from his face," Langworthy said. (Letterman was fine and blamed himself -- he had stepped on the dog's tail.)

Langworthy is thorough -- and careful -- in his search for unusual animals and tricks.

"The trick has to be really unique, something that people haven't seen before," Langworthy said, adding that no trick that may cause potential harm to the pet -- or the host -- is allowed on the show.

If a trick fails (or the animal can't perform for some reason) during the audition, Langworthy asks the owner to send in a videotape. (He also urges those who want to be on the show, but didn't attend the audition, to call (888)PET-TRIK.)

Tricks that make the cut are chosen a week before the show is to be taped (a potential show date for those who attended the Las Vegas audition has not be scheduled).

Pets and owners are flown to New York where they are treated to a hotel stay and limousine service.

During the audition Langworthy gives each owner tips to better their chances of appearing on the show. But he's careful not to rub anyone the wrong way.

"It's tough for me because you want to give everybody a lot of attention, but you've got to get through 30 people," Langworthy said. "Everybody thinks their animal is special."

On with the show

Huber brought photos of Yo standing on the seat of a motorcycle with her paws on the handlebars as Huber's husband, Dick, drove.

After Yo demonstrated her biking ability on a parked motorcycle, the Hubers were sent home with instructions to send a videotape of the dog in action to the show.

Next.

Kimberly Rehrauer stood before the camera and gave her full name, her phone number and a brief description of her dog Sahlen's trick.

"My dog puts on lotion."

The dachshund rolled in a smudge of creamy moisturizer Rehrauer had smeared into the carpet.

"That's great," Langworthy said, "but can you really pile it on?"

Rehrauer squirted a mound of lotion on the carpet, but Sahlen had reached her saturation point.

"It doesn't look like she's interested in applying lotion right now," Langworthy said.

Next.

Duchess, the flatulent dog, made her entrance. Her owner, Dan O'Connor, bought Duchess from a breeder -- in Arkansas. He quickly noticed her special talent, as did his friends and family.

"I give her a little squeeze and she rips one," O'Connor said.

Duchess had her behind to the camera and immediately complied.

"I didn't hear that," Langworthy said. "Can you try it again?"

After a few more outbursts that filled the room with her special scent, 9-year-old Duchess was out of steam.

"The lotion dog smelled good," Langworthy said. "We should have planned that better."

Next.

Rebecca Muller said that her 108-pound Great Dane, Abby, lives in denial -- she thinks she's human. Abby swings on the swingset and begs for piggyback rides.

On command, Abby reared up to her full 5-foot-10-inch height, slapped her large paws over Muller's shoulders and hopped up with ease. Muller locked her hands under the dog's great hindquarters and ran in small circles around the room.

The camera crew applauded. Langworthy smiled.

"Yeahhhh," he drawled. "Can you go up the stairs? Or jump rope with her? Ride a bike?"

"No, but everyone here seems to love it," Muller shot back. "We won first place in Strut Your Mutt (a contest) in the park."

Next.

Gulp. My turn.

I had wondered what Jake would do in front of the cameras, the lights and the people.

"Whenever you're ready," Langworthy said.

I jumped around and clapped to get Jake's attention. He was much more interested in the mixture of scents in the carpet.

I continued to do a little jig and call his name until he eventually looked up, at which point I threw my head back and did my best impression of his impression of a howling. "Whhhyyyy?"

Nothing.

"Thank you very much. I think that's good enough, don't you?" Langworthy said.

Good enough? I just needed more time! Langworthy suggested that I send in a videotape, and I felt relieved that there was still a chance -- and that my personal humiliation was over.

Next.

Dog trainer Cherie Ireland trotted out Whitney, who bowed her head between her paws and said doggie prayers. The talented little shelty then whined what appeared to be the word "Mama," and rolled herself in a blanket with just her brown eyes and snout peeking out.

"That's great," Langworthy said, "but can you get her to roll all the way up in the blanket, like a mummy?"

Ireland said she'd work on that, and mentioned that the dog could skateboard.

"Does she really push herself on the board?" Langworthy asked. His was the voice of a tired man who had seen more than his fair share of skateboarding dogs.

Not only that but, at Langworthy's suggestion, Ireland had another dog pull Whitney on the skateboard. That did it -- Ireland and her dog made the list of potential Pet Trick stars.

Had everyone else had crashed and burned?

The dogs left the audition with the same curious demeanor that they had shown up with (and the added bonus of bellies full of snacks), and the owners were still enamored of their talented pets.

Jake was ready to go home and pick up where he'd left off -- in front of the fireplace.

I was content to have tried, and to have met other animal owners who had just as much silly pride in their four-legged friends as I.