Johnny Depp's dogs: their only crime was being born into a life of privilege
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Version 0 of 1. It’s a bold politician who voluntarily adds “dog-murderer” to their record. But the Australian agriculture minister, Barnaby Joyce, has told Johnny Depp in no uncertain terms: send your really cute little dogs back to America, or they’ll be put down. Depp was given the ultimatum after apparently failing to declare his two Yorkshire terriers when he flew into Australia on his private jet last month to film the fifth Pirates of the Caribbean movie. On Thursday Joyce said Depp did not have the proper certification and permits required to bring dogs into Australia, and “snuck them in”. Now it’s a life-or-death race against the clock to get them offshore. Related: Johnny Depp's dogs must 'bugger off' to US or face death for entering Australia On so many levels, the incident begs the question “why?”. The department of agriculture here makes no secret of its rigid restrictions on importing pets into Australia, and yet Depp apparently thwarted them, despite being better placed than almost any dog owner in the world to throw time, money and resources into meeting the department’s demands. Was it laziness? Arrogance? Obliviousness? An act of subterfuge by a member of staff? Did Depp simply not see Pistol and Boo sneak onto the jet because he was wearing sunglasses indoors? Did his wife Amber Heard dump them on him at the last minute, leaving him no other choice than to take them with him, cursing Heard’s name as he lumped their beds and brushes and garish, plastic paraphernalia onto the jet? (Presuming Joyce is right about the missing paperwork, of course.) No one’s denying that complying with Australia’s bio-security regulations would be an enormous drag for anyone, let alone one of People magazine’s Sexiest Men Alive. But the truth we are left with is that Depp’s apparent, somewhat obscure failure to follow the rules – or at least outsource them to a member of staff – has landed Pistol and Boo in the middle of a blazing international scandal. But then of course celebrity pets so often get a raw deal. Paris Hilton, once described as the “world’s worst dog owner”, last month mourned her 14-year-old Chihuahua’s “special & incredible soul”. But those of us who’d been unwilling witnesses to Tinkerbell being carted about Beverley Hills in a handbag, kitted out in tiny Juicy Couture, can’t help but feel glad that she is now at peace. (Besides, a clap will bring her back.) Hilton also once dropped her kitten off at a vet’s to be neutered and, in a feat of negligence that boggles the mind in its passivity, never returned to pick him up. Prada – yes, Prada – languished there for a week before being rescued by a non-profit animal welfare organisation that was presumably happy to have its burdens added to by a privileged socialite. In 2009, Gerard Butler was accused of punching another man’s dog after it sniffed his pug. Michael Jackson’s alligators, remaindered to an exotic animal park after his passing, were “boiled alive in a towering inferno” earlier this year in a suspected arson. Mike Tyson’s Bengal tigers were sent to a Colorado refuge after he could no longer afford their upkeep. The only crime these animals ever committed was to be brought into lives of privilege. Outfits, infernos, being told to “bugger off” by an Australian federal minister – it’s all part of the territory of being a celebrity pet. Perhaps the closest parallel to be drawn with Depp’s case is Justin Bieber, who fell out of favour with his fan-base after a series of incidents – spitting on fans, being carried up the Great Wall of China, aligning himself with Floyd Mayweather – that revealed him to be a careless, unpleasant, out-of-touch human being. But one of the first, and the most high profile, was in 2013, when he abandoned his pet monkey OG Mally to German customs officials just one week after having acquired him. The internet, by and large a network of responsible pet owners, was outraged that Bieber could so callously cast off the “clearly traumatised” capuchin. Two years later, he’s still working overtime to undo the damage to his brand, even staging a teary reunion with a Mally-lookalike, “someone I really loved and lost because I screwed it all up”, during his grovelling Comedy Central roast in March. The real Mally, thankfully, is now out of harm’s way and “perfectly integrated” with his own kind at a wildlife park in Germany. It’s too early to tell whether there’s as happy an ending in store for Pistol and Boo, watching the clock on death row; the best-case scenario is a business-class flight back to the US. But whatever happens next, the responsibility rests with Johnny Depp, not Australia’s agriculture minister. |