by Nikki Attree
“Ah, there you are” says Elizabeth. “I’ve brought you a soulmate.”
She introduces him to Doodle, his costar. The two dogs stare at each other. Together they are a sight for sore eyes: identical designer dogs. Elizabeth can see their star potential immediately. “Fantastic casting, if I say so myself” she thinks. “They’re going to be the canine equivalent of Bogard and Bacall, Bonnie and Clyde, Laurel and Hardy ...”
She’s getting a bit carried away now. The actual chemistry between the two dogs is rather less promising. They eye each other guardedly. It’s not exactly love at first sight. “But it’s early days” thinks Elizabeth, “give them a little while to get to know each other, and I’m sure they’ll adore each other.”
Miranda hands her phone to her mum to take some pics of her with the dogs. Eventually Elizabeth tells her daughter that it’s time for them to leave. She passes Doodle’s lead to the Wags staff, and they make their way back to the reception. Miranda gets a bit emotional as she kisses Doodle goodbye, but she puts on a brave face when her mum reminds her that her pooch is going to be hanging out with Uggie, Shaggy, Angelique, Gizmo and all the other A-list dogs.
Alone now in the chill-out lounge, the two Labradoodles give each other a tentative sniff. Although to the untrained eye they are identical: the same age, the same size, the same pure white fur, in terms of their personalties and backgrounds they are very different dogs (as well as, of course, different genders - even the untrained eye might spot that if they looked in the right place).
Gizmo is one streetwise pooch. First of all he was uprooted from his home in cold, damp, muddy old England to start a new life in Tenerife. Then he was abandoned by his humans, and spent time on the Island’s mean streets, getting wise. He’s very much his own dog, and definitely nobody’s poodle. He's all about standing up for the underdog, and it got him into a fair few scrapes on the streets. The scrapes left scars, mental as well as physical. Luckily he was rescued by humans who were prepared to accept the scars, and now he’s a much loved mutt.
Doodle, on the other hand, is nose-to-tail a designer dog, and she knows it. She can strut her stuff with the swankiest poodle. She has everything that money can buy, and materially she’s a spoilt pooch. Unfortunately, as we know: money can’t buy you love. Lack of love has left her a bit fragile, a bit brittle, vulnerable. She puts on the airs and graces of a swanky, spoilt bitch, but deep down she’s not at all sure of herself.
Opposites often attract, but not necessarily for these two. At least not at first sight. But you never know, the posh pooch may eventually hanker after her ‘bit of ruff’, and Gizmo is as ready as he is rough. Elizabeth is banking on it. She has already tweaked the ‘Nobody’s Poodle’ plot to include opposites attracting like opposing magnetic poles, and it’s too late now to rewrite the screenplay yet again. Yes, there’s meant to be some tension between these two, but it better all end happily before the budget is blown.
“I believe that we’re going to be working together” woofs Doodle in her silky smooth Hampstead accent.
“Not if I had anything to do with it” growls Gizmo. “But now that I’ve been dragged away from my sun, sand, sea, and you-know-what-else, then I guess that we’ll just have to make the best of it. Anyway, in the meantime this Wags place is a bit of alright.”
“Yes, it seems quite nice I suppose. At least I might be able to get a decent fur cut here. So, I shall allow you to escort me to my room please. I’ve had a long day. And Gizmo, please note that I said: ‘my room’, not yours. So, no funny business, comprende?”
“Oh yes, I comprende OK. In fact I’m fluent in comprende-ing Spanish woof-speak. Mas o menos. Anyway, allow me to escort madam to her suite. It’s just down the corridor here, next door to my room as it happens.”
The two dogs mosey on down the corridor together, and Gizmo shows Doodle the fancy dog flap to her room. “Tomorrow I’ll introduce you to some of the other inmates. There’s a motley crew staying here. Some canine royalty, along with a few complete mutts’-nutters. A woof of warning about this internet terrier: Shaggy. It’s definitely not advisable to find yourself alone with him. Especially not in the Jacuzzi. So, you might end up being glad of my company after all. As a chaperone, at least.”
Doodle bids him goodnight sniffily, points her nose in the air, and uses it to delicately push open the flap to her room. Gizmo snorts to himself, and heads back down to the ‘Bone Bar’ for a nightcap with his newfound mates.
* * *
Jack and Harry have been sat in the van in a secluded corner of Wags’ carpark for a couple of hours. Since watching Elizabeth and Miranda drive off, Jack has been carefully observing movements at the hotel, making notes in his little ‘stakeout’ book and taking a few pics on his phone. Harry is getting increasingly impatient: “aven’t we seen enough yet? It’s bleedin freezin and I’m dyin for a pint.”
“Harry mate, this is what being a professional is all about. We’re into a proper stakeout now, like in the movies. Do I need to remind you again: ‘fail to prepare and prepare to fail.’ Why do you think you ended up in the nick every time you did a job?”
Just a grunt from Harry.
“Piss poor preparation, mate. That’s why. Look, like I said, the stakes have been upped. This is The Big One. We’re talking a hostage and ransom scenario. Big money. But we need to get it right, OK?”
Another grunt, before Harry reluctantly accedes. Deep down, somewhere in the cesspit of his brain, he knows that his partner is talking sense. There’s twenty grand to play for, and even he isn’t stupid enough to blow it.
“Alright. You win. So, how long are we going to ‘ang around ‘ere then? All bleedin night, or what?”
Jack realises that his partner’s limited attention span has already been exceeded, but he knows that they must fully familiarise themselves with Wags’ layout and routines before committing to their ‘surgical strike’, and this will take some time. He’s going to have to return in the daytime, maybe in disguise, perhaps posing as a prospective punter, and definitely without Harry. But before they leave, he wants to take the opportunity for a quick snoop around the perimeter and grounds under cover of darkness.
“Right, it looks to me like most of the staff have left for the night and I don’t see anyone patrolling the exterior. Let’s go and take a look around. Are you coming?”
Another grunt, but Harry is glad that they’re finally going to be moving. Moving swiftly and silently, Jack glides around the side of the building. Harry follows, rather more clumsily. Jack notes where the CCTV cameras are located. They seem to be pointed at the swimming pool, hot tub, and sun lounger areas - presumably so that the clients can watch their dogs online. They’re probably not even switched on after dark.
He finds a back door and tries the handle. Amazingly it opens, and they find themselves looking in on a dimly lit corridor with numbered doors, each with a dog-sized flap. Jack noiselessly eases the door shut again, and whispers to Harry: “like I said, this place is a hotel, not a prison. We know all about them, eh mate? Not so easy to break into, let alone out of, but this place should be a piece of cake as long as we plan it right.”
They creep along the outside wall, checking the windows. The rooms are either unoccupied, or have blinds drawn. The windows are locked, but have no bars. Jack is about to head back to the car park and call it a night, but he sneaks a look into the last room on the corridor, and freezes. A sharp intake of breath, as he beckons Harry over. There, curled up on the four-poster bed is their target!
Harry feels the adrenaline coursing through his veins: “OK, we aint got firepower, but we don’t need shooters” he hisses. “There’s a crowbar in the van, we can smash the window and grab the mutt.”
Once again Jack has to rein in his partner’s ‘enthusiasm’. “No way, mate. I told you, it’s got to be planned. The timing’s got to be right, and we have to have some way of keeping the dog quiet.”
“Oh for fark’s sake Jack. We’re looking at
twenty grand lying there, and you’re pussying around. I say let’s just do it ...”
He grabs hold of the window and tries to force it open. Jack desperately tries to restrain him. The dog on the bed stirs, opens it’s eyes lazily, and the door of the room opens. A staff member, wearing a Wags teeshirt, enters the room and discreetly refills the water bowl. The two would-be dognappers just manage to duck out of sight in time. They creep back to the van.
“Now do you get it?” Jack says curtly, as they drive off. “You nearly screwed up the whole job, right there. Just like you did in her garden. I’m beginning to think that I’d be better off going solo.”
Harry is flustered, and just for a change, a bit remorseful. He can see a sizable wedge going down the drain, but he’s damned if he’s going to lick The Lad’s arse. He’s been in this game all his life, and Jack is his apprentice. He took him in and gave him his first real opportunity.
“OK, Jack. Don’t worry, we’ll do it your way. But don’t forget whose ‘ouse yer livin in, and don’t forget, some of the geezers I’ve worked with make me look like a pussycat.”
They drive back to Stoke Newington and get there just before closing time. Harry heads off to drown his sorrows in the ‘Bucket of Blood’, and try his luck yet again with Rosie, the exuberantly endowed barmaid. Jack opts for an early night, and a fresh start tomorrow.
* * *
The next morning Gizmo is true to his word and introduces Doodle to some of the other guests at Wags, starting with Uggie. As he suspects, she’s something of a groupie when it comes to canine celebrities, and is clearly a bit star-struck.
“Oh, I’m a massive fan of your work in ‘The Artist’. So authentic,” she gushes to him. “I’m honored to be staying in the same hotel with such a hugely talented fellow actor.”
Uggie is definitely not star struck. He’s really quite modest about his own achievements, and for one so successful, he’s actually a hell of a nice pooch. “Ah, you’re too kind,” he woofs. “So, Doodle, you’re in show business yourself then? Anything that I might have come across?”
Doodle gets as close to blushing as a dog can get, and replies demurely: “well no. Not yet anyway. But I’m just about to star in my first movie ...”
Gizmo clears his throat. “Ahem. Co-star would perhaps be more accurate?”
Doodle is a delicate shade of pink now. “Umm, yes. Strictly speaking that’s true. Gizmo and I have the lead roles in a new blockbuster, and we’re starting shooting at Pinewood next week.”
Uggie looks at both of them with newfound respect. This is the first he’s heard about the project. He found Gizmo immediately likable, but now he realises that not only did he not “lick his arse” (metaphorically speaking, that is - of course he did, literally), but he didn’t even boast about being a fellow thespian. Uggie is impressed.
Doodle sidles over to the famous Jack Russell, and asks him what he’s doing in this neck of the woods. “Are you filming at the studios? I must say that I hadn’t heard anything about your next role. They must be keeping it very secrete. Oh, but it would be so exciting if you were filming in the same building. I can pop over to watch you on set, and get some tips from a true master.”
“No. I’m not filming here,” Uggie woofs back. “Actually, I’ve retired from the silver screen now. I’m just over from California to do a bit of promotion for my book: ‘Uggie The Artist: My Story’5 here in the Old Country. Finding it a bit chilly to be honest, but the hotel’s OK. We’ve got a Wags in L.A. and I know the owners, so I always stay in one when I’m on tour.”
Doodle flutters her eyelids and expresses her deep disappointment at the unexpected news of Uggie’s retirement. Gizmo suspects that all she’s really disappointed about is that the famous canine actor won’t be visiting her on set to marvel at her sublime acting skills.
There’s a bit of a commotion behind them in the foyer, and an ugly little terrier struts over to join them. He nods at the two male dogs. “Howdy Uggie, man. Gizmo - how they danglin dude?”
He creeps up behind Doodle, and gets intimately acquainted with her arse. “And who the heck is this? Are y’all gonna introduce little-ol-me to this paw-lickin ball of fur?”
Doodle jumps a foot in the air, repositions herself out of his range, and the dogs introduce themselves. “Well, howdy mam. Mah name is 'Shaggy Rock-and-Roll Presley'. Mah fans call me ‘The Shagster’, but you can jus call me ‘Shags’,” he announces, leering at Doodle. “And yessiree that’s what the dogarn folks back home call a good old Texan hello.”
“I think I’ll stick to ‘Mister Shaggy’, if it’s all the same with you” Doodle woofs back, with her nose in the air.
“Okee Dokee mam. So what are y’all doin in this fine establishment, mah little DoodleBug?”
Doodle tells him, in her iciest Hampstead tones, that she’s here to shoot a movie with Gizmo, and that if he doesn’t mind, they were actually having a serious conversation with Uggie about acting technique.
“Oh ah do lurve these lar-dee-dar British bitches. Yessiree, ah can feel myself rising to the challenge as ah speak ...”
All four dogs gaze at Shaggy’s undercarriage. It’s true, he is rising. Spectacularly.
“I just bet y’all just gaggin to hear all about little-ol-me?”
Before Doodle has time to protest he launches into his life story. “Well, like ah said, ah’m from Texas. Just flew in from Houston in fact. My humans, well now, they had the good sense to recognize mah star potential when ah was just a pup.”
The other three dogs are already openly yawning, but it doesn’t deter The Shagster.
“So they put me on Youtube, and ah immediately got eight million hits. Before you can say ‘hot jiggerdy’, there’s an A-list of celebs just cue’in up to be photographed with little-ol-me. Next thing, this Brit TV company rings mah agent and begs him to send me over for their new game show: ‘Who Wants to be the Mutt’s Nutts’. It’s like ‘Who Wants to be a Millionaire’ but for A-list V.I.Ds. That’s ‘Very Important Dogs’, like little-ol-me and Uggs here. Y’all followin me so far?”
Shaggy pauses to take a breath, and the other three dogs seize their chance to escape.
Later that day the three of them are in the Jacuzzi, and Uggie fills in the gaps in the Shaggy story. It is indeed true that he got a lot of hits on his Youtube videos, but Uggie is fairly certain it’s because people are Googling: “ugliest dog in the world”. It’s also true that he was then photographed with some equally ugly rock band who nobody had heard of, but who happened to be sporting similarly shaggy haircuts.
According to Uggie, Shaggy has two Unique Selling Points and this is one of them: his fur sticks out at very odd angles, giving him an uncanny resemblance to Gnasher, the character in Beano magazine. Gizmo is intrigued to hear about Shaggy’s other U.S.P., not having noticed anything about the mutt that was the slightest bit appealing.
Uggie: “Well, I hesitate to go there in the company of a lady dog, but suffice to say that you saw evidence of it’s dimensions earlier, after he had molested Doodle.”
Doodle does the ‘fifty shades of pink’ thing again.
Uggie continues: “the thing I find most repulsive about him is that he’s obsessed with fame for fame’s sake, and he’ll do absolutely anything to grab a piece of it. In fact I had first paw experience of this, but it was such a disgusting episode that I’m loath to even mention it ...”
Gizmo and Doodle are loving these tales of showbiz shenanigans and they urge him to spill the beans.
“Well, OK, if you insist. It will serve as a timely warning of the seedier side of the business that you’re both about to get into. So, Shaggy had only been at the hotel for a matter of minutes when he recognised me and started following me around everywhere. I just couldn’t get away from him. Wherever I tried to hide he’d find me, plonk himself next me, and start sniffing my butt. I tried to stay polite, but he just wouldn’t take the hint.
Then, after a few hours of stalking me, he actual
ly asked me if I’d like to get a room with him and engage in some unspeakably depraved acts together. Can you believe it?”
Doodle gasps. She’s squirming, as well as blushing now.
“His excuse was that he had ‘one hell of a big pecker, and a mighty high sex drive’ but you know, I don’t think that had much to do with it. Well, maybe he does want to shag everything on four legs, but I’m positive that he went after me because he knew that I’m in movies and he saw it as a way of getting a leg up the ladder.”
Doodle sees the chance to join in the Shaggy dissing, and brings up the subject of his dubious parentage. “That’s terrible Uggie. I’m absolutely appalled that you had to put up with this obnoxious little runt’s attentions, but really, what can you expect from a bastard mongrel, eh? I mean God only knows what his parents looked like. I’m sure he doesn’t know anyway.”
Uggie sighs. He’s no snob, and he’s not bothered about Shaggy’s breeding or background. He himself was a rescue dog, and never knew his own parents. No, that’s not what upsets him. It’s the lack of self respect, and just as importantly, Shaggy’s total lack of any kind of training or technique in the finer arts of acting.
“The thing is, I know you two are just starting out, but I‘ve spent years studying with my human trainer. He’s an expert, with a lifetime’s experience, and he’s trained some of the most successful canine actors in the business. It’s damn hard work. And then along come these wannabe stars like Shaggy, without any training, style, or charisma, and they think they can make it without putting in any effort, just by looking ugly on Youtube.”
Uggie is getting quite worked up now. This is the most animated that Gizmo and Doodle have seen him.
“It's just not on, and it makes me barking mad!” he woofs. “I don’t know what the world’s coming to, but I blame these cheap reality TV shows. They‘re just churning out inexperienced sloppy performers, who vanish after their five minutes of fame.”
