I’m pretty proud of the fact that when I was told I’d be reviewing a one-woman show about a dog that becomes self-aware, my reaction was a cheery “ok!” without so much as a bat of an eye. I’ve been an eager little satellite to Sydney’s theatre scene for long enough now that I’ve come to expect the strange - but what really hit me in this show, was the sublime.

 

Yes,Doggy Doo Doos and Don’t Don’ts is funny. Beyond funny! It’s hilarious in a quintessentially Australian way: a fatalistic, self-deprecating jab at the inner-west and all its iconic archetypes (the dog mum ensconced in leopard print, the pompous, spiritually awoken barista, etc.). Doggy Doo Doos and Don’t Don’ts (how the hell do I make a shorthand of this title?) is also a tremendous showcase of Ruby Blinkhorn’s ample talents, who swings from character to hilarious character throughout the fleetingly short 55 minute runtime. 
 

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What I didn’t expect from the show with a talking dog is a genuine, poignant message about appreciating how good love feels, how much joy there is in loving and being loved, even if that love is fleeting. Even if everything is fleeting. Ruby doesn’t just put her considerable theatrical skills on display through fantastic comedic work between characters, or hilarious (and often catchy!) melodramatic songs about a dog getting a crash course in existential anxiety, but also through how these performances teeter on a knife’s edge, and when the moment calls for it, she can drop right into an intense, emotionally charged soliloquy that leaves the audience spellbound.

 

Even with less than an hour on stage there’s so much to sink your teeth into here, namely with the show’s secondary protagonist, the dog’s owner, and the rapid changes occurring in her life. These things are really only hinted at, being at the peripherals of what a dog with a day’s worth of sentience is capable of understanding, but that makes for a highly engaging narrative to flesh out the rogue’s gallery of sycophants that fuels a good chunk of the show’s comedy (honourable mention goes out to Australia’s Postman Pat who is, as the parodied song goes, a “fucking rat”).

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I think the wonderful thing about theatre is how, at its best, comedy and tragedy engage in this wonderful dance with one another. I think the best pieces of theatrical work laugh at life’s bitterest moments, and teach us to savour the often short lived sweet ones. Ruby Blinkhorn does this with aplomb, her show is as much a comedy sketch as it is a gallery, and amid that ridiculously funny caricatures of Sydney’s usual suspects is a portrait of an incredibly engaging, incredibly empathetic protagonist. Yes, I’m talking about the dog who wakes up one morning philosophising about what they’ll do when they finally catch their tail.