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Wit and Wisdomby Beth BroderickMichael was worried about me in Romania. I was having a very hard time, and he had rarely known me to be so deeply depressed. After our conversation he hung up the phone, leapt into action, and called his airline to book some flights (Yes, those of us who travel often for work all have an airline to which we are fiercely loyal—“our” airline. It doesn’t matter if they are the best or have the best options … it matters that they know us and can be counted on to help us out in a pinch … like, say, for instance, when one of our close pals is having a complete meltdown in a foreign county and we need to get there ASAP.) My airline is Delta; Mike’s is American. They quickly got him sorted, so he packed a bag and headed to JFK airport. He had a busy schedule, but as an independent producer, he figured he could rearrange things on the way. He flew to London that evening and made his way to Romania the next day. When he told me he was in the country I almost dropped the phone as I doubled over with relief and felt the first wave of joy I had known in quite some time. I had about ten days left of filming when Michael arrived. He had made arrangements to stay for five of them. He is a producer of films as well as Broadway and Off- Broadway shows, and that was what he could manage. When he arrived, he came straight to me on the set and stayed until I finished shooting for the day. Then we got into the car from production and headed back to my hotel room while it was still light enough to see our surroundings. It was a long, dusty drive, during which our vehicle impatiently shared the road with horse-drawn carts and heavily laden mules. There was not much else to see on the way back to the city, but as the light began to wane, the sky turned a gorgeous crimson. Had it always done so? Had I never noticed?I was not on the filming schedule for the following day, which meant I could spend some desperately needed alone time with my pal and also that we could have a night of it without worrying about an early call. He was starving, and a few places were still open, so we found a restaurant near the hotel and sat down to eat. “What are you doing?” he asked at one point. “With your food?”He had watched as I discreetly (I thought) wrapped up most of the contents of my plate in a napkin and stowed them in my purse.“For the animals. There are so many …”“I see.” We had some wine and talked. He told me stories that made me laugh, and I felt my shoulders start to go down. On the way home, we were approached by several children who made desperate pleas for money. I demonstrated my dollar-stashing techniques for Michael as I handed them out to each one. At the hotel, the puppy was waiting as usual. Michael and I sat down with him and rummaged in my purse for the dinner I had saved. He nuzzled into both of our arms, seeming to need affection even more than sustenance. “Isn’t he lovely? I asked. “It will kill me to leave him here.”“Honey, this guy is a survivor. He has you wrapped around his paw. He will find someone else.” “Yes,” I sighed. I guess you are right. He’s just such a love.”He took the food I had for him, and we sat with him a while longer as he pressed himself into first one of us and then the other, but soon it was time to get Mike some much needed rest. The next day, Michael made some phone calls. He had recently filmed a movie in Budapest and knew a lot of crew people on the ground there. He was looking for connections.“Okay. I have hired a car,” he told me when I came out of the bedroom. “He is going to drive us to a big store where they have everything, or at least the Romanian version of that. We are going to buy food for the animals and treats for the children, and then you are going to eat the food we get for you. You need to eat, honey. You look like a rail.”We bought a ton of supplies: cases of single servings of dog food that came wrapped in little gold pouches, as well as chow for the puppy and lots of individually wrapped foods that could be distributed to kids. After we loaded it all into the hotel room, we grabbed a few items to take with us and set off to find a restaurant that our driver friend had highly recommended. The place was located in a nice part of town where a lot of the original architecture was intact, some of it quite beautiful. Outside the restaurant at least a half dozen men wearing suits paced up and down. They all carried side-arms and eyed each other warily. These fellows are called “Mug-faces”; they are there to guard the bosses as they dine inside. The “bosses” (mostly members of the Oligarchy that had survived Ceausescu) were seated all around the dining room dressed in leisure wear. Most of them were wildly overweight, their girth threatened to burst out of their track suits. All of them sported heavy gold jewelry around their necks and big rings on their fingers. We observed them carefully, not wanting to stare as we sat down to order lunch. We shared appetizers, and I had the chicken, which was delicious. I tried to portion most of it off to save for the streets, but Michael intervened, and I actually ate my lunch. Things were beginning to brighten. The next day we were picked up late morning to go to set. I found the puppy before we got in the car and fed him a handful of chow. I was in every scene that was scheduled, and it promised to be a long day. There is nothing more boring than being on a movie set if you are not a part of the movie, but Michael never complained as the day wore into what promised to be a long night. In America, when a shoot goes into overtime the production is required to supply a second meal, which is often take-out food of some kind. People work hard on movie sets and need to refuel after six or seven hours. In Romania, they set out some bologna and day old bread and called it a meal. I hatched a plan.I talked to the other three leads and got them to agree to pitch in if I could find a way to have pizza delivered to the set, which was a good forty five minute drive from the city. I did not need their financial assistance, but I thought it was important for the four of us to present a united front. This would not be easy. There was no Domino’s or any such place that delivered pizza anywhere to anyone, much less to over 50 people at a remote locale. Michael, ever the producer, started working to find a way. With a lot of help from the production office, he found a pizza place that was eager to try but needed two days to assemble an order that large. It would be delivered cold, but we figured out that there was a cafeteria type building on the studio grounds which had an industrial sized oven we could use to reheat it once it arrived. It was Michael’s last night in the country when we astonished the cast and crew of the movie by providing a second meal of hot and pretty darned delicious pizza. Such a thing was unheard of then, and we would not have pulled it off without a lot of helping hands from production and the A.D. team. I announced that this was a gift from the actors and from all of us as a thank you for everyone’s hard work. We had all been slogging away, trying to get to the film’s finish line and this was a much needed break from the grind. It was a mitzvah, a joyous moment. Michael had in so many ways, truly saved the day. The next night, after a fairly early wrap, a few of us decided to go out for dinner. One of our cast members was a woman named Suzy. She was a beauty who originally hailed from Hungary but had become a successful model/actress in America. When everyone met outside of the hotel, I was already down there communing with the puppy. Before he left, Michael had warned me off of trying to rescue him, and I had reluctantly agreed that it couldn’t be done. The pup was about four months and growing bigger every day. I was worried that the authorities would be called, and he would end up being removed from the area and put to death. Suzy met him for the first time that night.“Oh my. What a sweetie! He is your dog, Beth. He is your dog,” She said after observing us together.“I know. I am so worried about him. This place is so dangerous for them,” I said, with tears in my eyes. The puppy tried to follow us as we loaded into a cab. He was running full speed after us as we pulled away. I had to make the driver stop so I could get out and send him back to the construction site that was his home. His eyes shone with longing, but he obeyed me and turned toward the hotel. I got back in the car and wiped away the tears that had now fallen down my face.“He is your dog,” Suzy said again.“I can’t leave him here. I just can’t, but there is no way to get him out of here.”“I will help you. I can help you. We are going to do it.”A TICKET TO A NEW LIFE.I had two more days in the country, but Suzy was staying on for a few more. I wrote her a check for two thousand dollars and told her I would happily spend whatever we needed to pull it off. I then scrambled to figure out how to keep him protected and alive long enough for Suzy to get him on a plane. I approached several of the “CIA” guards with the little gold packets of dog food. They all knew the puppy. I had seen one or two of them playing with him, even throwing his old boot/toy for him to fetch. I explained that I would be taking him home to the United States and asked them to feed him for me until we could arrange his transport. They were taken aback by the very notion, and all of them replied with some version of the following:“Never take dog to America!! This never happen. Crazy lady! No. This not happen!” Still, most of them took the food. I was relieved—I needed them to buy into the scheme. I hugged the puppy tight the morning that I left.“You are coming with me. I promise. You are my dog, and you are coming with me. You are coming to be with me,” I told him through yet more tears. When I traveled back with the young lead actor, we decided to grab a bite between flights. He stopped me as I tried to wrap up my food in a paper napkin—I had not shaken the habit.“We are in Germany Beth. We are at the airport. There is no one here to give that to.” Suzy got the puppy vaccinated and got sworn affidavits from the vet that he was a domesticated pet. She bribed a bevy of officials and somehow arranged for him to get a passport. When she went to crate him up for the long trip home, one of the CIA guards shouted out:“Take me to America!!! Put me in box!!!”It was a terrible flight for the poor puppy. He had never been indoors, much less in a crate in the belly of an airplane. Suzy said his howls could be heard by everyone on the flight. She somehow got to him at the baggage claim in Germany and gave him a sedative. That woman is amazing—I have no idea how she managed it, but when they arrived, she waltzed through American customs with a dog from Romania. I was able to pick him up the next day. Suzy had bathed him, and with the dirt and the green paint gone, his coat was actually a gleaming white. The minute he saw me, there was a look of understanding in his eyes. He knew for certain in that moment that he was my dog. He was too big, and it was not safe, but I let him sit in my lap all the way as we drove home.When I took him to the vet, there was a surprise in store.“Beth, I don’t think he is entirely a dog. I mean there is some dog, but I think he is also European white wolf.”“He’s a wolf?” I asked, astonished“A mix for sure, but yes, I think there is some wolf here.”“Oh boy!” I exclaimed. “What now?”“We need to neuter him as soon as possible to contain his growth.”We did so at the first opportunity, and I guess it was a good thing because even “contained,” he grew to be over 100 pounds. He did not cotton to everyone; well, to most people, to be honest. He had a small pack of folks that he trusted and no use for any others. But, my oh my, did he love me. When my marriage broke into pieces and my heart with it, he came to my rescue, doing everything he could to bring me comfort. He scared the wee-billy Jaysus out of almost everyone he met, but he had a huge heart and was ever gentle with me. He was a truly magnificent creature, and he had my back every day of his long happy American life.On we go …P.S. Not long ago, I ran into one of the producers from that film. She told me that folks still talk about the “crazy Americans” who saved a dog. The stuff of legend. We extend our heartfelt gratitude to our valued subscribers whose support makes the publication of Wit and Wisdom possible. Thank you! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bethbroderick.substack.com/subscribe