Ana wants to rescue a dog,” is how her agent puts it when I call him about doing a profile on Ana Foxxx. I imagine a cute porn chick wandering the streets of L.A. in a cape, springing into action at the slightest sign of a dog in distress. I call Ana at the number he gives me. Her plan is much more sensible: We’ll head over to the local shelter and find the perfect puppy.
Nine a.m. I pull up in front of a typical South L.A. single-story home. Nothing flashy. Simple. Real. Still in her pj’s, Ana invites me in and introduces me to her best friend Evelyn. I trail her to the kitchen, and we small-talk while Ana smears a cinnamon bagel. I lean on the kitchen counter and imagine we just woke up together. A guy can dream.
On Ana’s mind this morning is one thing and one thing only. “My family always had big dogs, but I had to share,” she says. “This is going to be my first little dog and my first responsibility all by myself, so that’s exciting! I can buy sweaters for it, and my brothers can’t say it’s stupid. I’m thinking I might want a boy because I don’t want it to like other people more. I have a guy around. A girl dog will like the guy more.”
“Any names in mind?”
“I want to see its little puppy eyes first. Then I’ll know.”
I tear my eyes away from her excited smile for a second and notice some interesting details. Little sculpted crosses, Jesus postcards, a wall relief of the Last Supper, a very well-organized collection of someone else’s family photos tacked to the fridge.
