Somebody's Doodle

by Nikki Attree

  Elizabeth’s boss isn’t the only one to be appalled by her bad behaviour. When Nikki finds out about her confession in court, she’s outraged. Actually, that’s again a bit of an understatement. Words simply can’t do justice to her feelings. She tells Elizabeth, in graphic detail, exactly what she can do with her film and what she’ll do to the producer if she’s allowed anywhere near her.

  Gizmo’s owner then utilises his considerable online clout, via social networking, to tell all his Twitter followers about Elizabeth’s shenanigans:

  Gizmo @wooftasticbooks

  Wooftastic to be back home, but very angry about dognapping. Read the real story

  She inserts a link to an exposé by the reporter from Dogs Today entitled: ‘Celebrity Dogs Tortured as a Publicity Stunt!’. Word spreads like wildfire among the online canine community. It doesn’t take long before Gizmo’s furry amigos have started a campaign to boycott the film - before it even exists:

  Marley Charms @MarleyCharms

  I’m barking mad at Gizmo’s treatment. We should stop this film. Trend #BoycottNobodysPoodleFilm

  Oscar the Dog @Oscarthedog_ARM

  Some humans have fur for brains! Stop The Film!

  Toby @tobydog2015

  Yep. Cutting Edge Films - we have a bone to pick with you!

  Little Josh @LJ doodle

  Elizabeth Parker-Smyth - a dog's dinner of a film producer.

  Soon Twitter is buzzing with ‘dogs’ expressing their anger, and urging their owners to boycott this disgusting film. Eventually Gizmo has to remind them that the film isn’t even finished yet, but since he’s in it, plus his mistress wrote the book, he reserves the right to think again, if / when it ever does get finished.

  Elizabeth isn’t too worried about the Twitter-storm raging in the online canine community. She’s already thought of some possible sweeteners to persuade Gizmo’s owner to cooperate: offering her a role, maybe as an extra, or some kind of local canine consultant. She also knows how popular Gizmo and ‘his’ book are amongst his followers. She’s confident that Nikki will want to see the film of her book finished, and that when it is there will be no more talk of a boycott.

  On top of this she has another card to play, and it should help her regain some of the lost credibility. She can thank Lord Longbottom for it. Her boss may be worried about negative publicity, but Elizabeth knows how she can turn it around. She’s the mistress of positive spin and a Jedi master of the press release. The one she comes up with now is a classic.

  The heading is: ‘Cutting Edge Films Sponsors the London Dog Refuge’

  ‘Senior producer, Elizabeth Parker-Smyth, announced today that having finished shooting the studio scenes for their latest film: ‘Nobody’s Poodle’, they have temporarily put the project on hold, to allow her to undertake hands-on research at the London Dog Refuge (LDR).

  She will be working closely with the staff there for several weeks, getting to know the woofers, and gaining valuable firsthand experience of the plight of abandoned dogs.

  Along with her hands-on research project, she was proud to announce that Cutting Edge Films will be making a significant donation to LDR, as their way of putting something back into the dog refuge community.’

  “A bit of classic” she thinks to herself, “if I say so myself.” She’s particularly chuffed with the informal, dog-friendly reference to ‘woofers’ and the notion of ‘putting something back into the dog refuge community’. “That should do the trick” she thinks.

  * * *

  The next morning Elizabeth arrives at the London Dog Refuge (LDR) to start her one hundred and twenty hours community sentence. She drives there in her silver Mercedes, dressed as usual in a stylish outfit complete with plenty of prominently visible designer labels.

  She parks in the first available space, despite, or perhaps because of, the sign: ‘Reserved for V.I.P. Visitors’. A member of staff comes out of the office to greet her, looking rather confused. There’s been no mention of a V.I.P. visit today. Last week their patron, the Queen, paid them a royal visit and enjoyed the parade of Corgis that they laid on for her. So perhaps this is some kind of a follow-up. Maybe Her Majesty has decided to adopt a rescue Corgi - that would be fantastic publicity.

  It’s soon apparent though, that despite first appearances, Elizabeth isn’t from the palace. She tells the LDR staff member her name and announces that she’s there to help out.

  “Ah, I see, so you’re here as a volunteer then?”

  “Yes, sort of ...” Elizabeth hesitates. “Well, not exactly, but it’s all been prearranged. If you consult your manager, I’m sure that they are well aware of my visit.”

  The staff member scurries back into the office, still looking confused. A few minutes later an older, sterner woman strides towards Elizabeth, carrying some overalls, a mop, and a bucket.

  “You must be Ms Parker-Smyth. I must say, we were expecting a younger offender” she says, dismissively. “Take your car round to the staff carpark, enter through the back door, and get changed into these” she orders Elizabeth, in a steely, no-nonsense voice, handing her the overalls. “You will report to our kennel manager: Sharon. And take these with you.” She plonks the mop and bucket on the ground in front of her. “You’re cleaning out kennels today, and for the next twelve weeks I believe, as per the court order.”

  Elizabeth splutters a bit, but she does as she’s told. It takes her an age to get changed, but eventually she’s kitted out in her new outfit: white overalls with the LDR logo, yellow wellies, and pink plastic gloves. Luckily, there’s no mirror in the staff changing room.

  Sharon gives her a quick demonstration of how they do things and puts her to work cleaning the long line of empty cages. After an hour the kennel manager returns to find Elizabeth sat outside, busy with her phone. Sharon takes a quick look around, and she’s not impressed: “Elizabeth, I know it's just your first day, but I did show you how to clean the cages. Just look at them ..." She points at the piles of excrement. It’s hard to find evidence that a mop and bucket have been anywhere near them.

  Elizabeth’s shrugs: “well I’m sorry, but cleaning’s not my thing, you know."

  “Yes, I can see that” Sharon says, trying to control her irritation, “but you’re here to do your community service, and I’m supposed to supervise you. I need to see you clean a kennel properly before I can sign for the hours you’ve worked. So I’m afraid you’re going to have to start again.”

  Elizabeth sighs, trudges back to the first cage, and stands there motionless, staring at the mess as if it’s toxic waste.

  “Right. So what are you waiting for? Pick up the dog poo, like I showed you” Sharon orders exasperatedly, handing her the little shovel that has been provided for the job in hand.

  “What is this - the Dark Ages?” Elizabeth shrieks. “Don't you have some kind of pooper-scooper machine to do this kind of thing?”

  "Look, just pick it up” Sharon orders. “I’ve given you gloves and a shovel. What’s the problem?”

  Elizabeth wilts. “I’m sorry, I really am ...” and she does look suitably contrite, or at least effects a convincing impression. “But this is just too disgusting. I think I’m going to be sick!” She’s overacting now, miming throwing up in a bizarrely exaggerated style.

  Sharon isn’t that easily fooled: “what on earth are you talking about? You do have a dog don't you?” The kennel manager knows all about Elizabeth. The story of the dognapping publicity stunt is hot news in the canine community, and she even knows her dog’s name: “so you must have picked up Doodle's doo-doos?”

  “Well no, actually. I have someone who walks my dog, and if she makes a mess in the house, my cleaner deals with it."

  Sharon sighs, and Elizabeth recalls an incident that is perhaps best forgotten:19 “of course there was that time when she was a puppy, and she had a little accident in my daughter’s bedroom in the middle of the night ...” Elizabeth thinks back to her panic, and her innovative solution: “luckily
I managed to get an emergency cleaning company20 to come out to me.”

  Sharon sighs, rolls her eyes, and shrugs, but Elizabeth is in full flow now: “perhaps we can call them? To deal with the mess here, I mean. They were very efficient, and I’m sure that ...”

  The kennel manager has had enough. She interrupts, forcibly: “Just hang on a minute. That’s not going to happen, OK? Maybe you haven’t noticed, but we’re a charity. We rely on volunteers and the few staff get paid a pittance. We do the dirty work ourselves right?”

  Now it’s Elizabeth’s turn to shrug - something she’s had plenty of practice at.

  Sharon continues to lay down the law: “I can't force you to pick up dog poo, obviously,” Elizabeth looks relieved, “but I can’t sign the form for your probation officer unless you work the hours properly. So, what can you do?”

  Elizabeth’s shrugs again (as we know, she’s a master of the offhand gesture): “I don’t know ... anything except picking up turds, I suppose.”

  Sharon considers the options. “OK, well tomorrow we’ll try you on feeding the dogs. How does that sound?”

  Elizabeth shrugs (quelle surprise) and Sharon knows that she’s had just about all she can take for one day: “OK. See you tomorrow.” The kennel manager turns away, “oh, and don’t forget to leave the bucket, mop, overalls, gloves, and wellies in the cupboard.” You can’t be too careful with these criminal types.

  * * *

  The next morning Elizabeth arrives at LDR, dressed slightly more appropriately, and manages to avoid parking in the V.I.P. visitors space. She’s had the previous evening to reflect on this novel work experience, and she’s resigned to slogging through the community sentence, having looked up what might happen if she fails to turn up (a chance to join Pauline in Holloway prison, basically).

  Sharon greets her. Actually, that’s overstating it. The kennel manager sort of grunts hello, and then leads Elizabeth straight down the corridor, towards an ever louder cacophony of barking dogs. She opens the security door, and a wall of woofing hits them.

  “We’ll start you off with the non-hazardous residents today, and see how you get on” she shouts at Elizabeth, “then later in the week you can have a go at feeding the Rotties and Pitbulls.”

  She takes Elizabeth to a canine version of a kitchen, where there are about two hundred dog bowls waiting to be filled with dried pellets. Her job for the day is to take a full bowl to each cage, and make sure that everyone gets their fair share without too much collateral damage.

  This turns out to be tougher than it sounds. Feeding time is the highlight of the day in the refuge, and the residents are fully amped by the time this new member of staff arrives with their grub. Each cage holds a few dogs, who are supposed to get on together. That’s the theory anyway, but in practice it’s more like a mini civil war raging in most of them.

  Elizabeth escapes with a few nips and scratches. Nothing major in terms of loss of blood, but it’s definitely the kind of hands-on experience of Man’s Best Friend that Lord Longbottom had in mind. She ends the morning with a newfound respect for dogs’ tenacity, energy, and diverse personalities.

  After a few days on feeding duty, she’s trusted with supervising the exercise regime. This consists of taking a pack of residents, on leads, to the yard, and playing with them. She’s supposed to be in charge of the ensuing mayhem, but actually it’s more like the inmates giving her the runaround.

  Unexpectedly, she starts to enjoy the experience. For one thing, a fair share of the dogs are unreasonably cute, especially the puppies of course. Elizabeth never realised just how much fun a dog can be. How spontaneous they are. They just seem to live to have fun; eat, drink, and be merry; live in the moment; life’s too short to worry, or judge people, when there’s a ball to chase and wooftastic smells to sniff. She finds herself thinking that perhaps we can all learn from our canine friends, and it’s something of a ‘Road to Damascus’ moment for her, just as it was for Jack.

  By the end of her first week she’s exhausted, a bit fitter, and she’s starting to see the point of the place. Every day dogs of all shapes and sizes arrive at the back door, having been abandoned, and a few are lucky enough to leave by the front door, adopted by besotted carers. In the meantime the residents must be fed, watered, and given some kind of a life.

  The staff do their best, working their wellies off to care for the inmates, helped by a few generous volunteers, but it’s a struggle. They’re underfunded and under-resourced. They barely have time to do the basics, let alone raise public awareness and try to improve the backdoor in / front-door out ratio. Maybe she could contribute a bit more if she was allowed to use more of her real skills.

  * * *

  When Elizabeth arrives for her second week at the refuge, she asks if they need any help in the office. Sharon replies that she’ll see what she can do. The kennel manager is not exactly relishing another week with the producer, so she speaks to her boss (the stern woman who put Elizabeth in her place on the first day).

  The director agrees to the move and puts Elizabeth to work in the office, filing, copying, and doing general menial paperwork. Elizabeth is bored, but anything is better than picking up dog turds, so for once she doesn't complain, and the morning passes without incident.

  The next day Elizabeth is doing some photocopying when she comes across a memo from the director, warning of a worrying downward trend in the adoption rate, and asking for suggestions. During her break she takes a critical look at their website and online marketing. It’s not bad, as far as it goes. There’s a cute animation of an abandoned pooch talking to the viewer, hoping to persuade someone to adopt him, and lots of mugshots of his furry friends staring at the camera, looking sad and in desperate need of a new home.

  It’s a good start, but it’s clear that they need more media coverage to raise their profile. This is right up her street of course, and Elizabeth is confident that she knows just what they need to give their campaign a boost. Back in the office, she asks to see whoever is in charge of public relations at LDR. The marketing manager: Emily, is apparently very busy, as her assistant, Sarah, explains: “I’m sorry, but Emily is fully booked for the next couple of weeks, and I’m afraid that you won’t be high on her priorities, Mrs Parker-Smyth.”

  Elizabeth is about to explode, but she remembers that her status here is less than a nobody, a miscreant serving a sentence for bad behaviour. Perhaps this girl doesn’t realise that she’s anything more.

  “Look, tell Emily that I’d like to speak to her urgently about an exciting idea to boost the adoption campaign.”

  Sarah is unmoved, but at least polite: “she could maybe squeeze you in, a week on Friday?”

  "Well, that is a shame” Elizabeth says with a well practiced shrug, “I have a meeting with Ricky Vervais this Wednesday. You might have heard of him? But perhaps you aren’t aware of who I am?”

  Sarah knows, only too well, all about Elizabeth: “of course I know who you are” she says, irritatedly. “The dognapping stunt got a lot of publicity. Well done for putting those two dogs at risk, just to promote your film.”

  Elizabeth isn’t put off by Sarah’s antagonism: “yes, well it worked then, didn’t it? Anyway, whatever, the thing is - I know how much Ricky loves animals, and I’m sure that I could persuade him to visit the shelter before he flies off to LA. We could get him to appeal directly to the public to adopt a rescue dog. If I call some of my media contacts we can get his visit well covered, but never mind, if Emily is too busy ...”

  She leaves the thought dangling, and shrugs. “Right, well sorry to take up your time, Sarah. I’ll get back to my filing then. Documents don't file themselves, unfortunately.” She turns her back and starts to walk away, but Sarah stops her. However much she dislikes Elizabeth, this is clearly too good an opportunity to pass up: “OK. Hang on a minute. I’ll double check Emily's appointments.” Elizabeth smiles, as Sarah checks her boss’ diary. “Right, well she might be able to see you in half-an-hour, i
f I can reschedule ...”

  “That’s good for me. Thank you, Sarah” Elizabeth says, in her annoyingly smarmy voice.

  Emily is, of course, delighted at the chance of some A-list celebrity support. As Elizabeth says, it’s just what the refuge needs to boost public awareness. The two women get on well together, as you’d expect, given that they share an understanding of the dark arts of spin and public relations. They agree to work together to organise Ricky’s visit, and maximise the media exposure.

  Over lunch, fueled by a few glasses of white wine, the two marketing professionals become colleagues. Emily explains the true extent of the problems that the refuge faces. The sheer number of dogs that are abandoned in the city every day; the lack of resources to look after them; the problem of dangerous dogs that eventually have to be put down, because nobody wants to re-home them; and above all, the lack of people willing to adopt a rescue dog.

  Elizabeth is unexpectedly moved, and motivated. Last week’s hands-on experience has been educational. She witnessed, at first hand, the plight of all these homeless mutts, and suddenly she feels like she can do something to help. It’s a novel experience - to feel like she might be able to use her skills to do some good in the world.

  Ricky Vervais’ visit goes well. The staff are chuffed at his enthusiasm for their work, and he’s happy to promote their campaign to adopt a rescue dog. Instead of being a figure of scorn, even hatred, in the refuge, Elizabeth basks in the success and reflected glory. Say what you like about misguided publicity stunts, she thinks smugly, but everybody secretly envies somebody who rubs shoulders with A-list celebs.