Animal actors are big business in Hollywood, but it's their owners' egos that are getting out of control, writes Patricia Danaher

EVERYONE and their dog wants to be a celebrity in the US these days. For a while last year, even penguins were pushing their way in on the act, shoving Lassie and Benji aside. Whatever way you look at it, the animal acting biz is booming. But if the behaviour of pushy stage parents is not hideous enough, the growing army of pushy pet owners, seeking fame and fortune for their pets by turning them into cinematic cash cows, has to mark a new low.

In the US, the animal acting business is thriving, with nonhumans starring in one out of every three ads, appearing in three out of four movies and in some instances, such as Lassie, even starring in their own movies. There are acting classes for dogs, auditions, screen tests and of course talent agents.

"The world's gone bonkers for pets," says Bash Dibra, a veteran dog trainer and talent agent. "It's unbelievable, and every minute it's growing."

When you realise that 62 per cent of US households own a pet, more than have a child, it is easy to see how Americans spent a staggering $23 billion (€18 billion) on their pets last year. Forging a path to Hollywood doesn't come cheap, and on top of the massages and grooming, theatre workshops cost up to $2,000 for six two-hour sessions. They are put through basics like sitting up to the more advanced tricks like sneezing on cue, or feigning menace.

The animal entertainment industry is growing all the time, and becoming increasingly more competitive. In 1985, this sector of the industry was controlled by just five families (the original Lassie and Toto from The Wizard of Oz were both owned by the same ambitious clan). These days there are about a dozen agencies competing for business, and the negotiations for contracts and residual rights for the four-legged are as intense as for their human counterparts. At present they just get a one-off fee. Dibra says he plans to change this and to set up an animal actors' union.

So how much can a pet make, once its owner turns pro? The current rate for dogs is between $200 to $300 a day for a "camera-ready" dog in a TV commercial. Bigger animals command bigger bucks, with an elephant bringing in around $5,000 a day. Top of the pyramid is the grizzly bear, which can fetch up to $20,000 a day.

Hollywood Paws is one of the biggest animal agencies in Los Angeles, with some 2,000 animals on its books. This competitive and highly visible agency is located on a 20-acre campus, with six sound stages. It has 20 films and TV series to its credit. The company's website describes it as "the first and largest talent agency in the world to focus exclusively on representing and promoting animal actors to the entertainment industry . . . you won't know if you're living with an actor dog until you consult the experts."

Larry Lionetti, who runs the business with his wife and daughter, says business is booming as the film industry in Hollywood exploits the US's intense relationship with animals.

"It's almost as though if you don't have a mascot, some kind of animal in your film, it's not going to be successful," he says.

The agency charges in the region of $2,000 to prepare the animals for auditions. But there is trouble in Eden. Last month, lawyers for several pet owners filed a lawsuit with the Los Angeles Superior Court, alleging that while the agency collected tens of thousands of dollars from them, it failed to deliver the promised auditions, Hollywood introductions and doggie head shots.

Rachel Armstrong was told her rottweiller, Goliath, was so "cool and mellow" that he belonged in music videos, so she forked over the requisite fee. She now claims Hollywood Paw had nothing like the showbiz connections it claimed and the auditions her dog were sent for were "beneath his thespian skills".

Cynthia Mulvihill, the lawyer representing the dozen or so clients taking the case, says most of her clients either don't have children, or their children have grown and the animals are now their family. Hollywood Paws, she says, is "playing off people's dreams of either getting their dog into the motion-picture industry or making hundreds of thousands of dollars as a trainer."

The "No Bows" case, as it is colloquially known, is due to be heard in Los Angeles in 2007.