Cassie the black-headed caique practices riding her scooter for the Pet Star show under trainer Tani Robar's watchful eye.

THERE CASSIE and I stood, sweating it out under the bright spotlight.

In a moment, we would learn whether we - or the dog whose owner wore a matador costume - had won $2500.

If we won, who knew what might happen next? I could see it now: our own TV show, a movie, a book deal! We could become famous the world over: Tani Robar and her amazing trick caique!

Then again, maybe not.

But I'm getting way ahead of myself.

It all started in late June with a phone call from Bill Langworthy, a director for Pet Star, the TV show where animal acts from all over the country perform for celebrity judges and a studio audience.

Langworthy was looking for contestants for the hour-long program, which airs Friday nights on Animal Planet, and he'd heard about my performing parrots. They sounded great, he said. Would I like to bring them on the show?

Pet Star would pay for our plane tickets and motel and give us $100 a day to cover meals. They would even throw in a $100 gift certificate to the Discovery Channel store.

Don't call us
I hesitated a moment. Last year the Tonight Show had called out of the blue, asking some of the same questions. After I sent them an audition tape as requested, the show's liaison had called.

"Don't your birds talk?" she asked.

"Well, we mainly do tricks."

"Oh," she said. "We're looking for birds that talk."

When I got my tape back it was stopped halfway, where the liaison apparently had lost interest.

But Pet Star sounded different. According to Langworthy, they had plenty of birds that talked. They would be happy with birds that did tricks.

That sounded good to me. My birds were old hands at performing in front of live audiences. Together we had been entertaining bird clubs, conventions, pet fairs and other venues for over 12 years.

It didn't hurt that the winner of each Pet Star show walked away with $2500. At the end of the season, they handed out a $25,000 grand prize to an overall winner.

Bill Langworthy was as genial as the Leno rep had been indifferent. I liked him. I agreed to do it.

"You have two minutes"
For my audition tape, I sent Bill the first one of my four-video series. It's the best showcase of the tricks my birds do. A couple of days later Bill called again. He had just received the tape in the mail and loved it.

"It’s great!" He said enthusiastically. "We’d like to have you on the show!"

Bill wanted to plan what I would do. "You will have two minutes. How many birds can you use?"

I told him I couldn't do much in such a short amount of time, so we decided only one bird made sense. I picked Cassie, my black-headed caique and the clown of the group.

Bill asked if anybody else could show my other birds. I told him I would think about it.

Then I called Jean Brosell and Mona Delgado, friends who also own parrots.

They said sure, they'd give it a try. Jean wanted to take Squawk, my blue-crowned conure, because she has a blue-crowned conure, too. Mona, who owns a Timneh African grey, said she would go on the show with Kiri.

Getting Squawk and Kiri ready for the show would be tricky. The birds had never worked with anyone but me. Happily, they learned to respond to cues from Jean and Mona fairly quickly. However, if I was in the room they became confused and would look to me for direction.

Two weeks before the show we decided Squawk would go to live with Jean temporarily so they could practice without distraction. Mona did the same with Kiri. We also decided to do a practice run-through at a meeting of the Northwest Exotic Bird Society, a bird club in Seattle where Jean is president. That would give everyone an opportunity to practice in front of an audience.

Cassie, as always, hit all her cues, but Squawk and Kiri weren’t perfect. We prepared the audition tapes Bill Langworthy wanted from Jean and Mona anyway, and crossing my fingers, I assured Bill that we would have everything worked out by show time.

Bill approved the act and everything was a go.

The quarantine zone
Then we hit another snag. Pet Star was planning to fly us in on Alaska Airlines because it lands in Burbank, near where the show is taped. But when I called to doublecheck arrangements for the birds, Alaska told me they would not fly them back home. The reason: the area was still under quarantine for Exotic Newcastle's Disease, the deadly poultry disease.

I called Bill in a panic. He said to tell the airline that a government veterinarian would check the birds after the show and give us a health certificate certifying they did not have END. But Alaska wouldn’t budge. We finally had to settle for United, which flies into Los Angeles, about an hour's drive from Burbank.

At 6 a.m. on July 25, a Friday, Jean and I flew out of Seattle to LA. Our two would-be stars, Cassie and Squawk, shared a partitioned carrier under the seat in front of me.

Cassie the caique is a blur as she slides Indiana Joneslike down a wire while dangling from a ring.

At the airport, two cheerful Pet Star employees met our plane and drove us to our accommodations, a comfortable motel about 10 minutes from the studio. We knew we were in the right place: in the lobby wandered dogs, chickens, a cat and other Pet Star contestants with their handlers.

We were handed schedules for rehearsal times that day and the tapings the next. Jean and I had plenty of time to go to our rooms, set up the collapsible travel cages, unpack the small props we'd brought along (we'd shipped the big ones ahead), and rest a bit before the vans arrived to take us to the studio.

See you at rehearsals
The studio was in a cluster of nondescript buildings behind guarded gates. We entered through a back door and walked down a maze of hallways to a large room where we were told to wait. When they called our names, we were ushered into the small semi-circular Pet Star theater.

The act rehearsing before me, a man named Tony Cucuzella whose small white dog, Lady, pushed a baby carriage, was just finishing. As Cassie and I were ushered in, Cucuzella glanced at me and exclaimed, "Aren’t you Tani Robar? I’m so glad to meet you. I have all four of your tapes!"

Later, Tony confided he had been on Leno the night before and it had not been a pleasant experience.

In Tony's act, his dog Lady pushes in a baby carriage with a stuffed puppy in it. When her puppy "escapes" to the top of a tall platform (with a little help from Tony), Lady climbs a ladder, walks across a tight rope, picks up the puppy, carries it down a narrow plank, places it in the buggy again and then continues pushing it across the stage.

In an effort to be funny, Leno had rushed across the stage and pretended to catch Lady as she came down the plank. Lady was so upset she aborted the trick.

Tony was not happy. "It was terrible," he told me, shaking his head.

Hitting my marks
Most of the action on Pet Star takes place center stage on a big round carpeted area that gives the animals plenty of traction while performing. The three celebrity judges sit behind small monitors where their scores appear. On either side of the judges sits the small studio audience, including a separate section for family and friends of the contestants.

We were allowed 15 minutes each to rehearse. Pet Star's three directors showed me where I would be standing and briefed me on the questions Mario Lopez, the show's host, would probably ask. Then I set up my props on a 8-foot table that had been provided and ran Cassie through her act.

The directors told me they liked everything except the way my largest prop was positioned. It was blocking my face from the judges' view, they said. So they brought out another 8-foot table to hold that prop until I was ready for it. When the time came, I would slide the prop across onto the main table.

That was fine with me - except now Cassie would have to ride her scooter in the opposite direction we had practiced. That made me a little nervous. I hoped the last-minute change wouldn't confuse her.

When the props were set up just the way we wanted, a prop man came out and took pictures they could refer to when setting up for the next day's taping.

Makeup!
The next day Cassie and I left for the studio at 7:30 a.m. along with all the other contestants who had morning tapings. Jean and Squawk, who had an afternoon taping, would come later.

At the studio, all the acts but me were shown to dressing rooms on the second floor. I got the best room: right behind the "green room" on the first floor, where the food was served. A big table in the center of the room was laid out with bagels, cream cheese, juices and milk. Later in the day they would set out sandwiches for the afternoon crowd.

Pets and their owners get star treatment on Pet Star, the Animal Planet talent show.

After depositing our pets in our rooms, we all met back at the green room for a briefing. The Pet Star staffer warned us not to wander the halls alone. If we needed to go to the bathroom while waiting to be called for our taping, we were to ask for an escort, she said.

The reason: to prevent any contact, accidental or otherwise, with the judges. They didn't want anyone involved with the taping to be able to accuse the judges of taking bribes.

Then two Pet Star makeup artists came in and gave each of us makeovers, taking us in the order of our tapings.

When it was almost time to tape my segment, I was taken backstage to wait some more. It was now almost 11 a.m, over three hours since we'd arrived.

Ready for my closeup
Backstage wasn't how I had pictured it - it was a jumble of curtains and stage hands and people running every which way.

While I waited, I watched the contestant before me on a monitor. The young girl was having a terrible time with her poodle. It was supposed to be some type of balancing act, but the girl's hands were shaking so badly the dog seemed reluctant to use them to stand on its front paws.

Finally, it was my turn to go on.

While the prop men dashed about setting up my props, Mario came backstage to meet me and shake my hand. He was even cuter in person! Then, before they rolled the cameras, the directors asked me to come out and check my props one more time, just to make sure the crew had set everything up properly.

After I made sure everything looked okay, I went backstage again, the cameras rolled, and I heard Mario boom out my introduction: "And now, from Seattle, Washington, here's Tani Robar with her parrot, Cassie!"

I walked out with Cassie on my finger to enthusiastic applause, as if the audience hadn't seen us just a few minutes before. Across the stage sat our celebrity judges: Danny Bonaduce of Partridge Family fame, Bay Watch actress Kelly Packard, and comedian Kevin Meaney.

Mario warmly welcomed us and asked what type of bird Cassie was. I had prepared a speech. I told Mario that parrots were not domesticated animals like dogs and cats. In many cases, including Cassie's, they were only a generation or two removed from the wild. The fact that they could be tamed and taught tricks spoke a lot for their intelligence. I wondered how much they would edit out.

Then I was at the table with Cassie and the props, launching into our act.

We did not get off to a great start. Cassie was terribly distracted. When I attempted her finger tricks she ignored me, preferring instead to look around at all the strange sights of the studio.

But I had my face-saver. I gave her a stern look and said, "You know what we do to little birds that don't do as they are told? We shoot them!"

Then I picked up a toy gun, pointed it at Cassie sitting on a wooden perch I held in my right hand, and pulled the trigger. When the sign that said "bang" popped out of the barrel, Cassie fell over backward and hung from the perch by her feet.

I lowered the perch closer to the table so Cassie could reach a small flag I had left there. She picked it up, waved it, and swung upright on the perch, the flag still in her beak.

The audience loved it.

The slide for life
I ran Cassie through the rest of her tricks. She pumped the pedals up and down on the Stairmaster, a bird-size version of the real thing. She hopped across the table to show how she got her name of Hop-Along-Cassidy, and she rode her scooter.

Finally, it was time for Cassie to perform her final trick, one I call "the slide for life," a take-off on a scene from one of the Indiana Jones movies. In this trick Cassie climbs a rope to a platform where she grabs a metal ring in her beak. Suspended by just the ring, she then slides down a long diagonal wire.

Everything was going great and this was our big finale. Then, as Cassie began climbing, I saw to my horror that the ring was not there. It was still at the bottom of the wire; I had forgotten to slide it to the top. When Cassie mounted the platform, she wouldn't know what to do next.

I rushed over and slid the ring into its proper position just as Cassie reached the platform. She didn't miss a beat. She spotted it, grabbed it and slid. She did a back flip off the lower station and walked over to a perch facing the audience and took her bow.

I started breathing again, but I was exasperated with myself. I had been allowed a prop check and I still missed the out-of-place ring! I hoped they could edit me out of Cassie's triumphant finish.

"That was amazing"
The Pet Star judges rate each act from one to 10. The three scores are then totaled for your final score, 30 being the highest possible.

After all the acts have performed – there are about 10 in each show - the three with the highest scores are brought back for a quick review on the overhead monitor and the audience is asked to decide.

After Cassie was done, she and I stood there with Mario as he asked the judges how each had scored us. Now I was really nervous. I'll never watch Pet Star again without putting myself in the contestants' places, silently begging the judges to be kind.

The judges loved us. Kelly, the first to rate us, said, "I haven’t seen parrots do that kind of thing ever before. That was amazing. I am going to give you a 10." Danny and Kevin were equally flattering and gave us an 8 and another 10.

I couldn't believe it! Cassie and I had scored 28, only two points shy of a perfect mark!

Backstage Bill Langworthy met me and said encouragingly, "That’s a very good score! You will undoubtedly be in the top three."

Cassie and I returned to our room to see Jean and Squawk, who had arrived for their afternoon taping. It wasn't long before I knew Bill had been right. While a van whisked the low-scoring contestants back to the motel, I was instructed to stay put. I was going back for the audience vote.

And the winner is...
All the finalists gathered backstage again. As they introduced us, each of us was to come out from behind the curtain and walk to a predetermined spot.

I discovered Cassie and I had tied for first with a woman who had danced with her dog, she in a matador costume, to the tune of the Toreador Song from Carmen. They were great in the clips; I was sure they would win.

Pet Star's celebrity judges rate the acts from one to 10.

The finalist after me was a woman with a large black cat that had walked a tightwire. As she walked out to stand beside me, Cassie took one look, ran up my arm, across the back of my shoulders and peeked out from the other side of my neck.

The audience howled with laughter. But all the cat cared about was a spoonful of food the trainer held in her hand. It didn't give Cassie a second look.

Tied with the cat was the fourth finalist, a dog that had chased a soccer ball into the net and then caught it in a frisbee. The Japanese white silkie chicken that balanced on a ball, the tree-climbing Lhasa Apso, the balancing and volleyball-playing poodles, the Pomeranian that retrieved household items and the Yorkshire terrier that allowed its teeth to be flossed did not make the cut.

Finally it was time for the audience to vote using their small handheld devices. They stopped the cameras so the votes could be tabulated (another behind-the-scenes editing trick to make the show look like it goes faster). Then Mario returned and taping began again.

Mario was handed an envelope with the winner's name inside. I couldn't breathe. Would it be me, or the matador and her dog? Mario opened the envelope and smiled. The winner was..

The soccer-playing dog, which had been tied with the cat for second place!

That's the way it goes sometimes on Pet Star. When the audience has the final say, you never know what might happen. Oh, well. At least I made the last round, and it was fun shaking hands afterward with the celebrity judges, all of whom wanted to pet talented little Cassie.

Squawk versus the chicken
Now it was up to Jean and Squawk. They would have to pick up the baton and win this contest!

That afternoon, I had to make myself scarce before Jean's taping. Once again I was distracting Squawk, the last thing we wanted. I went back to the prop room and watched Jean and Squawk on the monitors there.

The tricks the directors had chosen for Squawk to perform were fairly simple: She was to raise a flag and salute it by raising her foot; play "fireman" by climbing a long ladder, sliding down a pole, picking up her fireman’s hat and putting it on a hat rack; and then do flips on the uneven bars in a gymnastic-style trick. She would finish by flipping open an applause sign.

Squawk's rehearsal had gone perfectly, but faced with the cameras and bright lights, she froze. Jean had to coax her through each and every trick. But she got through all of them except the salute. She refused to do it the first time, so they let Jean try it again. The second time Squawk saluted, but for some reason it didn't make the final edit.

Despite her less-than-stellar performance, Squawk got good scores - 8's across the board. It gave her enough to edge past the other bird on the show, a leghorn rooster.

No bathroom breaks allowed
The owner of the chicken, rumored to be looking for an agent, dressed in suspenders and a straw hat for his act. I didn't think the trick was much - but then I was impressed he had been able to train a chicken to do anything at all.

He stroked the big fowl to relax it, and then placed it on its back on the crown of his hat, the hapless bird's feet sticking straight up in the air. When the man tilted back, the chicken rolled off his head and landed feet first on his master's back.

All the animals on Jean's show did better than the hurdle-jumping dog. After the first hurdle the dog stopped and squatted on the studio's carpeting and peed, for a very long time. Her bladder must have been terribly full. I wondered if the owner had forgotten to "exercise" her before the taping as instructed.

I don't have to worry too much about Cassie or Squawk. Both pros under pressure, they seldom have accidents while performing.

A horse named Ice
Alas, none of the show’s contestants, not even Squawk, was a match for the winning pet: a big grey mare named Ice.

Ice strummed a guitar and played a keyboard with her lips. When her owner pointed a finger at her and said, "Bang," Ice dropped to her knees and rolled over on her back. The talented quarterhorse charmed the judges, who gave her an almost-perfect score of 29. She was the audience favorite, too. I had to admit she was pretty good.

After the taping, a veterinarian met us, as promised, to swab the birds for Newcastle's. He seemed like a nice enough guy, although I was aghast at the way he rammed the swab up poor Cassie's cloaca.

I asked him how he could be sure the birds weren't sick, since the test results wouldn't come back for two weeks. But he said the gesture was enough for the authorities. In the meantime he gave us official health certificates so we could board the plane and go home.

So long, Burbank
Our Pet Star adventure was drawing to a close. I was happy overall with our efforts. Cassie had done well and so had Squawk and Jean, under the circumstances. I was proud of them.

An unexpected highlight was meeting Tony Cucuzella, the man with the buggy-pushing dog, and his prop man, Jack. Jack offered to make some new props for my birds, which I eagerly accepted since I have lots of ideas for future tricks.

Jack also promised to make and send me some good basic props for bird owners who are just beginning to teach their parrots tricks. Trick props are hard to find in the bird world. In fact, I hope to have some ready to sell at my next big bird show, Sept. 6 at the Seattle Center.

Cassie, Squawk and Kiri will be there, too, performing. If you’re in the area, stop by and say hello!

There's no business like show business!

Tani Robar has spent her life training animals, including dogs, horses, and birds. She has a degree in psychology from Stanford University and the University of Washington. She and her performing parrots have put on successful stage shows for over 15 years. Tani also lectures on her training techniques and has produced four videos to help people visualize how to teach their parrots a variety of skills and tricks.