Sookie: the theater dog

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I wrote this today for myself, but even though it is personal I think a lot of theatre folks can relate, so I guess I will go ahead and post it.

One of the great thing about most theatre people is that they are animal people.  Almost everyone I know has a cat or dog that takes the career journey with them.  It is common for dogs to be backstage in the dressing rooms, in the box office, or in the administrative offices of many theatres – many theatres have cats (hey, there is a mice issue).  I have always thought that having animals around offices made for a better work environment.  Thank goodness everywhere I have ever worked has not only allowed but encouraged this.  As anyone who knows me (or reads the blog and sees the family photos on the left), I am a huge animal lover.

At the Arts Council job I had after grad school, my cocker-lab mix Elle travelled with me to the office and almost all of my off-campus outreach programs.  She was more popular in the public housing units and Fort Bragg in Fayetteville, NC than I ever was.  She was quickly joined by General the tea-cup Chihuahua.   When I moved to New York, they both occasionally joined me at MCC Theater or at the Vineyard.  People would always be shocked to find Elle asleep under my desk and General asleep in a tote bag.  I went to many restaurants with little General asleep in that bag.  When General passed at the age of 17+, Elle and our kitty Emmie were alone for a bit until Sookie joined the family.  Sookie’s first day in New York was spent in the Signature Theatre Company’s offices, where she spent a lot of the next four years. 

She was more of a theatre dog than any that came before her or those who arrived after.  Sookie went to the office regularly where she tortured Chris our Production Manager by barking at him constantly – he barked back.  She delighted in crawling up on the couch on with Adam and insisting he pet her despite the fact that he was allergic to her. She knew exactly where Jim kept treats hidden in his cabinet for her and would wait impatiently until the door opened.  She sat through most dress rehearsals on my lap in full attention watching the show, completely quiet except for two notable instances – during The Regard Evening at the end of Bill Irwin’s big juggling sequence Sookie let go with a loud round of barking applause and during the The Baltimore Waltz when Jeremy Webb twisted the neck of the stuffed rabbit cherished by the lead character, Sookie almost leapt onto the stage in a fit of anger.  I swear to this day that she watched and understood most of the shows. One night we lost electricity a few minutes into the first act of a performance, Sookie was in the box office and while I ran around trying to fix the problem a couple of audience members played with her.  When we finally cancelled the show, Sookie was in my arms, and everyone joked that I was holding her on purpose since no one would complain with her little sweet eyes staring up at them (they were right).

When we came to Connecticut, our dear kitten Squeakers had passed at the age of two from breast cancer and Emmie was distraught and confused by the move, so Sookie didn’t go to the office as often and some new puppies came into the family who took turns visiting at the Playhouse, but none developed the taste for watching shows like Sookie. 

This morning Sookie unexpectedly passed at the early age of 10.  Thank you to all of my friends who called, emailed and sent Facebook messages as soon as they heard.  We really appreciate it.

I am sure she has joined Elle, General, Squeakers and a host of other theatre dogs and cats who have kept an endless number of actors, designers, stage managers, producers, directors, etc. company during shows. 

Our dear little Sookie - Brian, Emmie, Socks, Tipper, Shea, Roo and I will miss you terribly. In addition to an endless supply of treats, a giant yard to run around in, wherever you are, I hope you get to take in a show or two every once in a while.