A Labor of Puppy Love: The Puppy Bowl

On an early October morning, in a television studio on the far west side of Manhattan, actor Dan Schachner stood astride a stage transformed into a mini-football field.

A painted backdrop of faux screaming fans surrounded him on three sides. Live cameras lined the other. Squishy footballs and other soft toys littered the floor. Also at his feet: a dozen or so romping puppies of all sizes and breeds.

Towering over the tykes like Gulliver over the Lilliputians, Schachner — in a black-and-white striped referee’s outfit — tracked the pups’ movements, every now and then lifting his referee whistle to his lips and giving it a blow.

 “Okay, that’s a personal foul, roughing a chihuahua,” he said in deadly earnest to Delachaise, a pointy-eared pit bull mix who was cavorting a tad too aggressively. “Pick on a guy your own size,” he added, as he hoisted him up and shifted him back five yards. Dela immediately bounded off.

Next, Coco, a fluffy white poodle doing her best to steer clear of the other players, got the whistle. “A warning this time,” he gently scolded her, “for being a wallflower,” as she continued to look perplexed and besieged.

Suddenly, Mandy, a dachshund-hound mix, snatched up a toy and bounded across the field, crossing the end zone — and scoring her second goal of the morning. Schachner threw up his arms to signal a touchdown. “That’s two for you, Mandy,” he said warmly, scooping her up and gazing into her limpid eyes. “You could be MVP material.”

Welcome to Puppy Bowl, Animal Planet’s tongue-in-cheek alternative to the Super Bowl. Instead of brawny, dogged NFL players, it features fetching, rambunctious puppies recruited from animal shelters around the country who have no clue that they are playing a football game.

Shot in the fall for airing on Super Bowl Sunday, Puppy Bowl presented its tenth-annual game on February 2; broadcast highlights can be screened at AnimalPlanet.com.

 “It’s feel-good TV,” says Melinda Toporoff, one of the two executive producers of the special, which is the network’s most popular non-primetime event of the year.

But Puppy Bowl is about more than entertaining the non–NFL crowd. Viewers are steered to the show’s website for information on pet adoption. “These players aren’t making millions of dollars,” she says. “They are just looking for a home.”

Puppy Bowl X required a three-day shoot. Components included a tweeting parrot, a doggy tailgate party with mock RVs, a parachuting kitty and a cast of penguin cheerleaders (last year it was hedgehogs).

This year, the traditional kitty halftime show featured the internet meme Keyboard Cat, playing “a rinky-dink version of a Bruno Mars song,” noted Toporoff, who injects fresh elements into each season.

Probably the trickiest part was ushering the raw talent — sixty-six puppies, thirty kittens and five African penguins — safely and effectively through the production process.

The kittens arrived from a local shelter. The puppies were flown or driven in from animal-rescue operations around the country, while the penguins were recruited from Ohio’s Columbus Zoo and Aquarium and got to spend the night before their shoot comfortably ensconced in a New York hotel suite.

None of the players are coached beforehand, although participation in the National Anthem ceremony was reserved for four first-responder dogs, representing law-enforcement K-9s of the New York region.

“It took us two days to get here,” said one animal transporter, Susan Ballard, who was seated outside the building on morning two of the shoot with several puppies; they’d come by minivan from AHeinz57 Pet Rescue in De Soto, Iowa. “Lots of potty stops,” she said, gearing up for check-in. 

Inside, veterinarians had set up tables where they inspected each puppy for signs of fleas or illness. They had done the same thing the day before with the kittens. For obvious reasons, the kittens, puppies and penguins are taped on different days. 

“Can I look at your teeth, please,” said veterinarian Nancy Ashley to CiCi, a twelve-week-old shepherd. She gently probed his abdomen and combed through his coat. “You are a feisty one,” she added, as he tried to wriggle from her grasp.

Next, the puppies and their caregivers lined up for individual video sessions. The short clips are posted online for viewers who want to learn more about a particular animal. No one had to ask which room the videographer was working in. A chain of wee-wee pads led the way, right up to his staging table.

“Look here, Mila!” exhorted associate producer Max Brumby, who howled and snapped his fingers to gain the attention of the nervous pit bull. Mila had already jumped off the table twice. Finally, she stood still long enough. “We got it!” exclaimed Brumby, with audible relief.

After that, it was on to the green room, where the pups awaited their star turn on stage. Volunteers and staffers kept finding excuses to stop by, turning the space into a cocoon of oohs and aahs. (It’s not unusual for crew to adopt the furry talent.)

Portable pens were set up, but most of the puppies sat on laps until it was time to go into the studio and play quarterback or linebacker for a stretch. 

Considerable effort goes into obtaining unusual video angles. Besides the ten cameras operated by crew, hidden cameras are tucked inside toys or underneath the glass-bottomed water bowl, for instance.

All morning, puppies were drawn to a particular portable camera attached to the end of a stick and jutting over the field. Tech producer Greg Siers had smeared peanut butter on the lens, enabling ample closeups of pink tongues licking. “It’s plain old Skippy,” he said.

On day three, when the “cheerleader” penguins were shot, green laser pointers were used to get the naturally curious creatures to waddle faster and more predictably among the large ice blocks placed on stage.

The producers coveted a shot of the group simultaneously looking upward. A fishing rod dangling a sparkly toy did the trick. That shot was later married to the National Anthem soundtrack and B-roll of the American flag, creating a cheeky nod to the opening act of the Super Bowl.

The kittens were decidedly more blasé. For their shoot, they were simply let loose to roam the decorated stage for an hour. Battery-operated spinning toys helped stir up some action.

Victoria Schade, an animal wrangler who assisted on the set each day along with a representative from the American Humane Association, also tried a few ploys. “I do meowing,” she said. With the puppies, she might imitate a distress call to get them to curtail some rude behavior. “If you do the right pitch,” she said, “they’ll tip their head in a questioning way.”

Many shots, of course, can’t be used. “Poop on the set,” cried stage manager Paul Tarascio, for about the twentieth time that day. “Poop patrol!” he repeated, until a volunteer scurried in with cleaning supplies.

In the control room, director–executive producer John Tomlin momentarily relaxed. “It’s not easy,” he said. “There are things going on all over the field.” While directing, he has to remain highly alert not to miss any notable puppy skirmishes, fumbles and tackles, or — more importantly — tail waggling and ear flopping.

For he understands exactly what draws viewers to Puppy Bowl. “The cutest shots we can find,” Tomlin said, nodding. “That’s what it’s all about.”