Several years ago, I had a small role (what they call a day player) in a TV drama.

At some point during the production of this TV show, I was interviewed by a marketing assistant for inclusion in the show’s press kit, what they give to journalists in advance of the show’s premiere in order to gain news coverage. I was interviewed for 45 minutes over the phone.

A few weeks later, I was told that the associate producer of the TV show wanted to meet with me. I sat down across from her in her office as she informed me that I would not be included in the press kit. She offered some excuse – not enough space or something like that. I don’t remember clearly because it wasn’t really my business; it was their press kit and they could package it any way they wanted. I was a day player, not a star.

So when the press kit was eventually distributed, I knew I was not included in it, it didn’t matter to me, but I was curious to learn about some of the other actors on the show.

Now, there was a dog on this TV show – an extremely well-groomed border collie named Charlie. And I love dogs. I am a “dog person.” Dogs are the most consistently happy creatures I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.

Well, the dog was in the press kit.

I’ll say that again, simply for emphasis, the – dog – was – in – the – press – kit.

I’m not one to think that my species is overly superior to any other, but really, how difficult is it for a dog to hit his marks, remain in the moment and look appealing to a wide demographic?

According to the press kit, Charlie had once worked with Gene Hackman. I certainly could not claim that, I thought. Then I kicked myself for comparing my own credentials to those of a dog. Like I said, I love dogs, but not when I’m competing with them for column space in a newspaper.

I did not go to the wrap party. I could not bring myself to look Charlie in the muzzle.

My only consolation – I may have been a news-unworthy day player, but at least no doctor removed my testicles.