I don’t know how many people out there have had to make emergency room runs because of their dogs.  I do know I’ve made enough visits to my doctor’s ER over the years that the first question the regular nurse asks me is, “Are you here because of the dogs again?” 

     If I’m sniffling and snarfing, I’m there because I’m ill.  If I’m limping, in a wheelchair, or if I am swathed in bandages, yeah, most likely there’s a dog behind the reason I’m there.  Bull Terriers are not for the faint of heart.

     My doctor’s new nurse didn’t get it.

     New nurse on her first day asked me, “What brings you in here today?”

     “My dog.  You see I was out in the yard with him.  I turned my back for a second, next thing I knew he ran full tilt into my leg, and I hit the ground like a sack of wet cement.  I think my ankle is sprained,” I said, looking at my ankle that was already the size of a football and turning a lovely shade of purple.

     Dazed looking nurse said, “Your dog?”

     “No my ankle.”  I raised my foot.  “See?”

     The nurse was shaking her head trying to process this when my doctor walked by.

     Doctor, “What are you doing here?”

     I lifted my foot and showed him my ankle.  “Well, I was out in the yard playing with Malcolm and…”

     Doctor grins.  “Did you bring Malcolm with you?”  He turns to the nurse.  “I love her dog he’s a hoot.  We had him in here a few weeks ago.”

     “Yeah, that was when he chomped down on the hose and accidentally got my husband’s thumb.  No, I didn’t bring him along today.”

     The nurse was looking concerned about our sanity at that point.  “You let her bring her dog in here?”

     “Yeah, he’s neat.”

     Funny, when I went back a few weeks later to have my sprained ankle rechecked she wasn’t there.

     Never take a Bull Terrier for a walk and buy them ice cream.  I’m not kidding they love it.  Malcolm learned where the ice cream store was on his first trip.  We stopped there often after that.  The store is only six blocks from our house.  

     On the occasional escape from our fenced yard he’d set off in that direction.  Did he ever make it there on his own?  No, there were too many exciting things along the way to distract him.  However, knowing what direction he’d go was a great help in finding him. 

     Dear Hubby has a favorite story about one time.  It seems that DH and his friend forgot to close the inside basement door, the outside basement door, and the gate to the yard.  It was only a matter of a few minutes before they were in a panic.  Malcolm had managed to wander down into the basement, up into the yard, and out of the gate.  DH and his friend knew that if they didn’t find my dog before I got home they were both dead meat. 

     They spotted a kid at the end of the block and asked him if he’d seen a white dog.  Yes, he had and he pointed them west.  Immediately DH realized Malcolm was going in the direction of the ice cream store.  They began to walk in that direction, one on each side of the street.  Four blocks along the street, DH saw a man staring down an alley to the one side.  He had one of those ‘aha’ moments and asked the man if he’d seen a white dog.  The man pointed out a back porch.  DH looked over the fence and there was Malcolm on a porch swing, having his belly tickled by an older woman.  DH called his name.  Malcolm looked over at him and wagged his tail faster.  The dog didn’t have the grace to look ashamed he was enjoying the attention too much. 

     The woman said to DH, “I knew he was too sweet to not have someone looking for him.”

     Once DH had leashed Malcolm and led him out of the nice woman’s yard, you guessed it, the dog turned towards the ice cream store…

In an earlier post, I mentioned that Joey had opened the door for Malcolm’s local stage career.  Several years after we’d lost Joey, I received a call from the director who asked me if I still had Joey.  He wanted to use him in ‘Oliver!’ again.  I replied that I didn’t have Joey, but I did have a dog I thought would do quite well in the production, and did he want to see him?  He said yes.

Unlike Joey, by this time Malcolm had three years worth of dog shows and obedience classes behind him.  He was 10 pounds heavier, more impressive, and one heck of a ham.  There was no hesitation on the director’s part in hiring us.  This was the first of five productions and four local stage companies where he’d play the role of Bill Sykes dog, Bullseye during his life.

Malcolm was truly in his element.  Since he was an all white dog, he did have to wear make up in the form of an eye patch and he’d wait patiently while I applied it.  He learned every musical cue and was pulling me to the door of the ‘green room’ as soon as he heard the song before his entrance onstage.  Most of his stage work he did off lead with me hidden behind the sets ready to reward him with a treat.

In his first play, the first scene off lead, every performance, Malcolm would lean way over the edge of the upper stage to peer at the actors below.  I stood, hidden behind a black curtain on steep steps and holding my breath praying he wouldn’t fall off the edge before Bill Sykes told him, “Bullseye, go home.”  At which point I’d whisper, “Malcolm, cookie!  Come!”  He never did fall but I always had my heart in my throat when he did that lean.  I’m certain he thought it was fun to panic me at least once during every performance.

He loved doing the bar scene and would wag his tail like crazy when the music for ‘Oom Pah Pah’ began.  He made a quick appearance in Fagin’s den and then again during Oliver’s capture.  Then after the murder of Nancy, he enjoyed his dash across the stage.  I would leave him with a stagehand, run behind the sets to the far side of the stage, wait for his cue, and then I’d blow on an English Bobby’s whistle and the stagehand would let him go.  This was our most difficult scene because of the fog, action, and so many people on the stage.  Most of the time Malcolm was flawless, however, there were those days where he’d want to take a romp.  Thank goodness, we had a back up plan just in case and one of Fagin’s boys would snag Malcolm and get him off the stage to me.

His favorite part was curtain call.  He loved the applause.  We’d send him out dressed in one of the production company’s T-shirts with Bill or The Artful Dodger and he would bow right along with the cast.  The dog was truly a complete ham.

Malcolm always knew when it was the last performance.  That was the only time he ever whined on the ride home.

Each of the four directors staged and directed in a different way.  There were often years in between the productions.  For the rest of his life, if you played a recording of ‘Oliver!’, you could tell that Malcolm never forgot a musical cue.