The Heidi Chronicles, Chapter 12: Heidi goes to a screening of ‘Beverly Hills Chihuahua’

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This is Heidi. Earlier this year, she was ‘discovered’ in the park by a pet talent agency; since then, she has embarked on a one-dog quest to break into the business. This is her Hollywood story as chronicled by Times staff writer Diane Haithman. And this is her “head shot”: That longing look was the result of seeing a biscuit just out of reach.

In Chapter 11, trainer Sue DiSesso told us it usually takes a year to studio-train a dog — meaning that, although this is clearly not a deal-breaker for many Hollywood stars, an animal actor actually has to act. But then, I knew it would only take Heidi six months, because she is the smartest dog in the world, which is the absolute truth because you read it on the Internet.

We’ll get back to Heidi’s training, which began in June, in later chapters; this week, we are jumping forward to the present because, studio-trained or no, Heidi has become an entertainment industry insider: She was invited to attend a private screening of “Beverly Hills Chihuahua” at Walt Disney Studios in Burbank. (The movie opened Friday.)

Well, ‘invited’ may be too strong a word. I heard about the screening and thought it might be fun to invite myself and the dog, so she’d be used to the red-carpet treatment by the time she wins an Academy Award for Best Supporting Canine.

The press representatives were delighted by Heidi’s career aspirations, and offered to set up a meeting with Heidi and Rusco the chihuahua, who plays “Papi,” and Mike Alexander, the head trainer/animal coordinator for the movie, at a later date — but no dogs allowed in the screening room. No dogs? Do Goofy and Pluto know about this?

If Heidi were a chihuahua, I could stuff her in my purse, but it’s hard to sneak a German Shepherd in anywhere.

We struck a deal that would allow Heidi to come onto the Disney lot and have her photo taken, but while I watched “BHC” she would have to stay in the car, parked in a shady spot within view of the guard at the gate.

But the day was outrageously hot — and it became clear that, once Heidi had posed for pictures, she’d either have to come inside, or I’d have to skip the screening and take her home. And after a few cellphone calls among press reps stressing the phrase “unseasonably hot,” everyone agreed to admit Heidi without anyone in particular being responsible.

We were seated in the back behind a console table, where Heidi would be out of the way. She was soon snoozing on the floor.

But she was suddenly alert, sitting up and peeking over the console with her large ears quivering, when a fellow German Shepherd started barking on screen. In another scene, a wildcat was snarling in preparation for attack. Luckily, that one ended before Heidi decided she needed to chase the big kitty.

When the movie was over, some children stopped to pet Heidi and wanted to know if she was a celebrity dog. I was tempted to tell them not yet — but one day, she hopes to become a famous movie critic.