How the Royal Lyceum Theatre’s performing dog stole my heart

I have had only one previous experience of working on stage with a dog - a cute little Jackadoodle who’d do anything for a treat - and bark until she got one.

This month, though, I am co-starring with a dog in John Dove’s production of the classic Steinbeck piece Of Mice And Men, at Edinburgh’s Royal Lyceum Theatre.

Back in November, when I first met John to discuss playing the role of Candy, I asked him where they might find Candy’s dog (described in the stage directions as “an ancient, blind, drag-footed sheep dog”). At this point, John wasn’t entirely convinced that having a live animal on stage was a good idea. Animals and children are notorious scene stealers and John is a man who has dedicated his professional life to serving the playwright and never allowing anything to distract focus from the text. He even quoted a piece written by Steinbeck in which he declared that no live animals should be used in the production of his play. (I assumed he was referring to the pups and mice that also ‘appear’ in the play - otherwise, why insert a detailed description of the beast?)

When rehearsals began in January, though, it seemed to be accepted that a live dog would be used. I was delighted. Apart from the fact that I love dogs anyway, I felt that the animal was a crucial part of my character’s story. I rehearsed with an imaginary lead for a few weeks, sitting an imaginary animal down, stroking its imaginary rump, tickling its imaginary ears and scratching its imaginary belly.

Word then came that we were to meet a possible contender for the four-legged actor. He has two appearances in the show - one quick establishing scene and another longer, more dramatic one, in which he is the principal subject.

First up was a cute, cuddly, slightly overweight old spaniel who couldn’t stop wagging his tail - even when he was being told of the drastic events that were awaiting him. And then along came Mouse. He looked exactly like Bill Sykes’s Bullseye in Oliver Twist - a fierce, brutish, ten-year old Staffordshire bull terrier. Because of the reputation of this breed and its association with drug-dealing owners and other nefarious thuggish connections, I admit I was a little apprehensive.

But Mouse! Oh Mouse! You stole my heart! He let me do all the things I had rehearsed doing with his imaginary understudy. He went where he was led and never objected, he let me scratch his belly and, when I leaned down to embrace him round the neck, he actually nibbled my ears!

We all wondered how he might react to a full house at his debut, the first preview. We needn’t have bothered. He was the ultimate professional. He did everything we’d rehearsed, improvised a few full-bodied shakes to gain delighted responses from the public and, while waiting off-stage for his entrance, he lay down and sucked on my thumb like a baby. Every night he waits for his entrance, never refuses to go on, and has, so far, never surprised us with barks, growls or deposits of natural body functions.

He may not be as cute-looking as Oscar-winning Uggie but for patience, professional reliability and genuine affection for all he comes in contact with, I dedicate this ‘ode to Mouse’ (with apologies to Mr R. Burns)

Wee, sleek-coat, towerin’, hum’rous beastie

Wi’ ne’er a panic in thy breastie

When faced wi’ muckle folk afore ye.

Ye maun be fierce o face an’ bearin’

Wha kens ye weel is aye foreswearin’

When ye’re oan stage they’ll a’ adore ye

• Of Mice and Men is at the Royal Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh, until 17 March.

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