Before the curtain rises on scenes IV and V, take a moment to revisit scenes I–III—whether you’re catching up or just need a quick reminder of the play so far: Gideon as Sandy: A Recap — Act 1: Scenes I–III.

Scene Four: Showbiz, Baby!

I have to give credit where credit is due. Gideon knew his routine. He did not bat an eyelash when we did all of the same scenes with an understudy. The understudy, Abby, was phenomenal. To learn an entire starring role, with only one date guaranteed that she’d take the stage — now that’s tough. Her comfort level with Gideon was not the highest when we first started out in rehearsals. I quickly learned that she and her family have very little to no dog experience. This manifested in a few things, but Gideon’s favorite part was that she didn’t slowly give him treats. She’d basically just dump his whole bag of treats at him to keep him occupied. Fast friends!

Abby and Gideon’s relationship didn’t start out so easy though. In his third weekend of shows, Gideon was feeling more overwhelmed generally. Friday night of that weekend, he saw a child in the theater lobby wearing a fluffy parka with the hood up and barked at her. You never know what you miss in their socialization until you see it. Kid with a fur-lined head? I guess we missed that! Going into Saturday, I was being more cautious with Gideon, and we were quietly practicing with Sky in the upstairs hall when Abby ran in, late. You know those moments, when you can just tell something is going to be upsetting to your dog? This was one of those moments. He immediately jumped out of his practice to chase poor Abby down the hall. Now, remember, Abby has very little experience with dogs. I immediately was hopeful that this wouldn’t scare her away from Gideon.

Thankfully, once onstage, Gideon considered everything, especially Abby, exceptionally normal. He tried to tell her this by mugging her for chicken. At one point, he was trying to jam his whole face in her pocket. She was very obliging, and he loved her for it. A couple of snafus with leashing him up for Abby’s big song notwithstanding, everything went off without a hitch with the “other Annie.”

Around this same time, I stopped taking Gideon to the red carpets after the show. Initially, he loved these and happily engaged with adults and children. I was frequently offered sharpies by the Wheelock staff so that Gideon could give autographs. This, I had unfortunately not trained him for. One of his early red carpets, he spent extra time with some kind adults with disabilities — they were so happy to receive special attention from one of the stars of the show. Toward the later red carpets, children started to crowd Gideon more, which was overwhelming for him, leading to some barking. To protect his experience, and the kids, I stopped taking him to the events. Those Saturday and Sunday afternoons were exhausting as it was anyway.

To layer on even more, let’s talk about Gideon’s mid-show stage crossing. After the N.Y.C. scene and song, Gideon crosses the stage alone as part of the background activity in the city. He had an ensemble cast member friend who would hold him, and he’d cross the stage directly to me. He typically did this just in front of the proscenium but behind the large set piece, so he crossed as a silhouette, basically. During the second or third weekend of the show, he started sprinting and looking fearful as he crossed. When I watched him, I realized he was possibly responding to the fly going up (with the Broadway lights) or possibly the elevator on the main set piece closing — both were loud and changed the light conditions as he crossed the stage. When he accidentally crossed onto the stage with the other background actors, I had to call it for a bit and talk to the director about changing his crossing.

The other option for the crossing was to eliminate it entirely. A background crossing isn’t the biggest deal. To me, it kept Sandy as a character in the minds of the audience, and I didn’t want to lose that. I wanted to try the cross on the stage and find a line where he’d fit in with the other background actors. Making a change like this while the show is already running caused a little bit of traffic in the wings, but thankfully everyone is very forgiving of a cute dog. We finally figured it out, and he happily crossed the stage with other background characters for the rest of the show run.

All these little moments of overwhelm for Gideon. Midway through the show, I really felt like we couldn’t catch a break — but the rule of adolescent dogs is to expect the unexpected. I expected him to have a hard time with certain things — having a new Annie, understudies going in for other cast members, service dogs in the audience — he was fine. Then things I never would have expected cropped up as upsetting to him: fake elevator noises, kids in parkas, who knew?

Scene Five: The Things I Don’t Want to Forget

I’ve been holding off on writing this scene — Gideon is three months out from his role in Annie. There are so many aspects of this that I miss, but there are certain things I want to remember. Over the course of the performances, certain things became routine. I’ve already talked about the kids giving Gideon an encouraging “lock in” shout prior to his scene as they came off the stage to the last notes of It’s a Hard Knock Life. There were endless routine tidbits that bring me joy to think back on.

Actors are expected to remember their cues for lines and stage movement, just like we train dogs to remember elaborate cues that signify they should perform some action. Without even trying, we build and develop routines that indicate something exciting or terrible is coming. You know all those cues before you give your dog dinner that indicate you’re going to get up and make their bowl? It is a certain time of day, maybe you get up from the same chair or spot at your desk at that time and move toward the kitchen. Your dog starts their frenzied dance to indicate that they do, in fact, have an appetite on this given day. Every part of Gideon’s stage routine was like this to him; he knew where we were heading and who we were seeing at each step of the way.

Gideon and I would move to our spot in the wings prior to his first entrance, and I’d throw treat tosses to warm him up. In my head, the treat tosses prepared him for pointed directional movement, but I was also doing them so his teenage brain didn’t devolve and to prevent boofing at the ensemble cast starting to get props into place in the wings. He’d also go visit with Jen, the kid actor wrangler who was also waiting in the wings to collect her charges. These visits were part of his prep, and they’d happen without fail, one of the many visits with cast and crew throughout every show.

For his stage crossing after N.Y.C., I would walk with him in my arms into the full chaos of the wings. This scene featured all the members of the ensemble in sparkling black and white outfits that were only featured in this single moment. There was a dancer with a feather headpiece, a Santa Claus, a singer with a suitcase, sprinting newsboys. In these moments, they’d come on and off the stage, still singing at full volume with the chorus. Our arrival would often coincide with Sky, De’Lon, and Pearl (Annie, Oliver Warbucks, and Grace Farrell, respectively) coming off stage. Sky would sing directly to Gideon while offstage, and we’d hang out with the younger boys in the ensemble and dance with Gideon a bit. This was the ultimate theater moment for us. Side note, my favorite moment from this scene is that the dancer in the feather headpiece does a quick change into her cop costume to yell at the crowd of singers that they need to keep it down. This quick change meant that she still had full dancer’s garb on under her cop uniform, which was scandalous looking as well as hilarious backstage. Full skirt, feather hat hastily pulled off, cop jacket over a bustier-type top, yelling “keep it quiet down there!”

For Gideon’s moments in the Hooverville scene, the director initially waffled on whether Gideon should remain on stage or not for We’d Like to Thank You, Herbert Hoover. It was eventually decided that Sky would leave Gideon, I would silently cue him off stage, then I’d hand him back over to Sky at the end of the song. When practicing this scene, one of the ensemble members who picks up all the characters’ bowls in this scene after they have their soup couldn’t decide on whether to pick up Gideon’s bowl or not. She leaned over to take his bowl, he looked up at her, then she stood back up. She then leaned down, took the bowl and apologized to Gideon. I obviously watched it all and laughed in the wings. She took it every instance after that without fail, though sometimes he’d wistfully look after it if there were still treats in the bowl.

During the part of that same scene after I called Gideon off stage, we would listen to the song, sing along, and hang out with Gideon’s two favorite stage crew members. When the song was winding down, Gideon would slowly stretch and then make his way back to the stage. This part of the scene involved him being led by Sky as Annie to center stage, where she’d briefly confront a police officer. The officer would then grab her, and in her struggle she’d “lose” Sandy. In that mayhem, Gideon was yanked around a bit, and he genuinely wasn’t acting when he’d make a break for it off the stage in the ensuing chaos. All the ensemble cast would come off the stage together, wheeling and carrying props off the stage. Gideon did eventually get used to this process, so while he wasn’t necessarily acting when he’d first encountered the chaos, he’d start waiting “in line” to join the ensemble coming off stage. Picture Gideon, chastened from his encounter with the cop, finding his way between rolling carts of props and Hooverville residents stumbling off the stage. I loved watching this evolve as he’d do the scene over and over.

Gideon’s final foray onto the stage during each production was in the finale. He’d enter at the last moment before the lights went out on the joyful Christmas scene. The song would crescendo, then the butler would come get Sandy and present him to Annie. Gideon and I would wait in the wings with his giant bow on his neck during the final song, New Deal for Christmas. He would watch the kids march by, and he’d start prepping for his entrance when Brian, the man who played the butler, would do a lift of another cast member right past our position in the wings. Gideon’s tail would wag, he’d look hopefully out at the stage for his scene partner, and he’d pull out toward the lights.

Prior to curtain call, Gideon would trot back to me to again wait in the wings and receive more adoration from his fellow actors waiting for their turn for applause. Every part of this show involved Gideon visiting with cast members, stage crew, running into dressing rooms, and making friends. He’d have a person to visit or wag his tail with between every scene, and he happily accepted visitors to his dressing room after the show each night. What began as an attempt to prepare Gideon for everything became a reminder that you never really can prepare a dog for everything. The process, the adjustments, the unexpected moments, and the connections along the way are what made our experience. For all the effort that went into getting through each scene, the things I want to remember are all these moments between scenes, where Gideon was just being his jovial, loving self. I hope we never forget these moments — those are the ones that quietly remind us what it means to share life with a dog.