The Dog Who Stole the Show

The Millbrook Amateur Theatre Society had been putting on its annual Shakespeare production for twenty-two consecutive years. This year was Hamlet. The director had chosen it specifically because she felt the company was ready for something serious. She had spent four months preparing them. She had not prepared them for Beau.

Beau was a three-year-old golden retriever who belonged to the theatre's sound technician. He had been tied to a railing by the side entrance with a long lead and a bowl of water, while his owner managed the sound board from the technical booth. He had been reliably tied up at the theatre before. This evening, however, someone had propped the side door open for ventilation, and the railing loop was apparently more negotiable than it looked.

The first act had gone beautifully. Hamlet was brooding. Ophelia was luminous. The audience was settling into the kind of reverent stillness that the director had hoped for.

Beau trotted through the side door at the start of act two, padded quietly up the side steps to the stage, and sat down between Hamlet and Ophelia at a moment of considerable dramatic tension.

He looked at the audience. The audience looked at him. There was a silence — not the reverential kind, but the precarious kind that comes before either laughter or disaster.

Beau stood up, walked to the centre-front of the stage, and dipped his head. It was not quite a bow, but it was close enough. Someone in the third row began to clap.

The audience dissolved. The kind of laughter that comes out of nowhere and cannot be controlled. Hamlet, who was a plumber in his day job and had excellent instincts, reached down and patted Beau. Ophelia crouched and let him sniff her hand. The audience laughed harder.

The stage manager appeared from the wings and collected Beau with quiet efficiency. The play resumed. The actors, slightly giddy, delivered the remainder with more energy than any rehearsal. The audience, already generous, was wholly on their side.

The director said afterward — privately, to the chairman — that it was the best performance they had ever given. The audience laughter had unlocked something in the cast. She was not going to put that in the programme notes.

The programme notes read: 'Special thanks to Beau, for a memorable cameo.' The sound technician printed that line and framed it. It lives on the wall above the dog's bed to this day.