Yakov Smirnoff's Gift of Laughter 4-15-02
Hello from Branson, Missouri:
My kids are a constant source of amazement to me. Because I
love them and want to be a good father, I'm always finding
myself in amusing dilemmas that a supposedly clear thinking
grownup would avoid. Take the day that Natasha came home
from school and asked me to rescue the puppy.
The tale begins with a homeless puppy hanging out around the
school playground. Everyday the kids would feed the puppy.
They were excited about the puppy, but the teachers know a
problem when they see one and called the Animal Control Police.
It was too late; the kids were already calling the puppy Buttercup.
When the police came it seems they weren't too gentle with
Buttercup, and that made Natasha's sadness at losing Buttercup
even worse.
Buttercup goes to animal jail; the rules say the puppy has to be
there for ten days and if no one rescues the puppy she'll be
destroyed. As Natasha describes the situation to me she says, "Dad, you're the only one who can help." Ahhhh, she's ten. My
heart tells me it's hero worship, but my gut tells me she knows
how to control her dad.
I have no desire for a dog, but the tail is wagging and the clock
is ticking. Getting a dog out of animal jail is no easy matter. First,
you have to bail the puppy out of jail and can only do this between
the hours of 4 and 5 PM (that's the exact time of the second half
of my show!). I talk to several policemen who say they can't change
the time as it interferes with their schedule for guarding Dunkin'
Donuts. Some persistence and several autographs later, I've
achieved the unimaginable and bailed the puppy out of jail.
Natasha looks at me like I'm Rambo liberating the town from police
brutality. I feel a nudging concern that I may be on the wrong side
of the law in this instance.
Now the first part of the mission is accomplished, and I start to
look for a good home for the puppy. I assume finding a family
will be easy, why I have a staff of 60 people, and of course one
of them will want the puppy. All I need to do is bring the puppy
to the theater and that will clinch the deal. NYET! Everyone
played with the puppy, but they said they already had five or six
puppies of their own, and when pressed, some said they had
twenty and didn't need another.
So Saturday night, instead of going to the movies, I'm cleaning
puppy poop and learning about being a chew toy. "Ah hah," I say
to myself (secretly believing I'm the genius of spin like the guy in the movie "Wag The Dog"), "I'll just call my PR person so she can
get me on the local media. I'll talk on the radio about this celebrity
puppy, and it will go to a good home quicker than Kibbles & Bits at
a dog show." NYET! NYET! It went slower than Heinz catsup. I
was on the radio for over an hour and no star struck, souvenir seeking,
puppy loving fan called. Apparently they all had twenty puppies of
their own.
I'm very tired of cleaning puppy poop and envision Saturday nights
with Buttercup for the rest of my life. Then someone suggested
showing a picture of the puppy during my show. I'm thinking most
people come from out of town...and they're not searching for their
twenty-first puppy. After repeated failures at house training, I decide
I'll deliver an emotional plea to my sympathetic audiences.
I make the first announcement, show the cute puppy picture,
wag my tail, and bingo...I had a family, with kids, from Tulsa,
Oklahoma, in the audience and they want the puppy. They
told us Buttercup would live on the farm, and there's lots of
coyotes..."Oh oh,"...I said, "Let's see if there's anyone else
with a backyard where Buttercup won't be the chew toy."
Then a little girl ran over and said, "My mom wants the dog."
They were from an area in St. Louis, Missouri where they have
never heard of coyotes. They were even willing to bring the
puppy on a regular basis to let Natasha keep in touch. It's been
a year ago now, and we visit back and forth. The homeless
puppy, Buttercup, has become our mascot of friendship.
Apparently being a clear thinking grownup is not as important
as being a softhearted father.
Love your kids,
Yakov Smirnoff
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