True story
It began with a phone call; one I almost didn’t answer. On the other end of the line was a woman, her voice was soft yet commanding. She had seen my ad in the Los Angeles Times about a little white Pekingese I was reluctantly putting up for adoption. “Can I come see him?” she asked. The tone in her voice carried a weight I couldn’t quite place, as if this wasn’t just about a dog.
That afternoon, she pulled up in a sleek black Range Rover, exuding pure Hollywood glamour. Her long blonde hair was swept up in a silk leopard-print bow, and her oversized sunglasses reflected the afternoon sun. At her side was her maid, she introduced as Marlena. From the moment she stepped out, she radiated a unique confidence and charisma.
But all that composure melted away the instant she saw the little white Pekingese. She dropped to her knees, tears streaming down her face as she scooped him into her arms. “It’s him,” she whispered, clutching the little dog as though he were a long-lost love. She told me she had recently lost her beloved Petey and was convinced this dog was his reincarnation.
Her passion was undeniable, but I wasn’t sure I could part with him just yet, it was all happening so fast. I explained I was moving into a small Hollywood apartment in the hills that only allowed one pet, and my Pomeranian, Cartier, was my longtime companion. Still, she pressed, giving me her address and phone number. “If you decide to let him go,” she said, “please bring him to me. He belongs with me.” As the Range Rover pulled away and disappeared down the street, I was left feeling a bit stunned.
When I glanced at the address—Roxbury Drive in Beverly Hills—I couldn’t help but be intrigued. This wasn’t just any address. Roxbury Drive was synonymous with celebrity and old Hollywood prestige.
A few days later when I had come to terms with the inevitable—I had to let him go—I arrived at the sprawling Italian villa-style mansion on Roxbury. The driveway was lined with manicured hedges, and the grand arched entrance made me feel like I was stepping onto a movie set. Shera greeted me warmly, her glamour as striking as ever. “You made the right decision,” she said with a knowing smile, taking the little Pekingese into her arms.
Inside, the home was nothing short of breathtaking. The high ceilings, ornate chandeliers, and impeccable decor spoke of wealth and elegance. But what captivated me most was a framed photograph on a side table. In it, Shera was beaming beside a man I instantly recognized—Peter Falk. My heart skipped a beat. I was standing in the home of Columbo, the world’s most famous detective.
Shera, noticing my gaze and casually confirmed what I had just realized. “Peter’s in his study,” she said. “He’s looking forward to meeting Rudy.” She explained that she had already decided to name the dog Rudy—a nod to Rudolph Valentino, reflecting her love of old Hollywood.
As I prepared to leave, Shera made me a generous offer. “Anytime you want to visit him, you’re welcome here. Just call, and you can come by. He’s your little guy too.” Her words were genuine, and I could tell she meant it.
Rudy quickly became the center of their household, which already included 13 rescue dogs. But his mischievous nature made him stand out. He marked his territory on the hand-carved wood floors, the custom drapes, and even Peter Falk’s closet floor. Shera told me later, laughing, that the little dog had caused them to replace their drapes and bedspreads and they had to refinish the hardwood floors.
Despite his antics, Rudy was adored. He became best friends with a pug named Jezebel and even attended obedience school with Cesar Millan. Shera and Peter’s love for animals was boundless, and Rudy thrived in their care.
Over the years, I visited them often, staying connected to the little dog who had brought us together. Those visits gave me a glimpse into the life of a couple whose love extended far beyond Hollywood to the animals and causes they cared so deeply about. And I personally learned so much from Shera about what it meant to be a responsible pet owner that moved from a space a love and compassion.
Looking back, I marvel at the serendipity of it all. What began as a reluctant classified ad had turned into a story of connection, compassion, and a little dog who united two worlds. Rudy wasn’t just a pet; he was a spark of magic, a bridge between my life and theirs, and a reminder that sometimes the smallest creatures can make the biggest impact in our lives.
