A Full-length play
Raunchy, rowdy and touching, Old Dog is the comic tale of a hot-tempered love affair between Hank and Bea, two feisty, Set-in-their-ways By-God Adults with a lot of mileage behind them and lots of rough road up ahead. A deeply moving and funny examination of small-town love after a certain age, OLD DOG celebrates the pure joy of never being too old to kiss, cuddle or get into a bar brawl.
- Hard-drinking rowdy man of about seventy years of age with bristling white hair, horn-rimmed glasses and plenty of fight still left in his old bones.
- Hairdresser, about sixty-five with silver hair, smart glint to her eye and a tendency to not take guff from anyone.
- Bartender, forty or so, good-looking woman with a lot of sass.
- Bea's best friend, late forties, waitress.
- Very pretty blond girl, works for Bea.
- Janis's boyfriend, a big dumb Jethro Bodine type.
- Hank's friend, fifties and short, bald, heavy and kind of shy.
- Hank's other friend, mid-fifties, tall, gawky and always smiling. He is from Sweden.
- Female, in her thirties, tall no-nonsense type.
Minimal sets at in various bars and a beauty salon all located in different small towns just outside of Omaha NE, with the exception of a brief camping trip up to the Black Hills.
Running time of the play is 110 minutes and performed without a break or an intermission.
Old Dog has received staged readings at Ensemble Studio Theatre (featuring Tom Ligon), The Directors Company, Storyline Project (directed by Peter Sander), Circle Repertory Theatre (as part of the Playwrights Project) and La Mama New Voices New Works (directed by Sarah Orth).
Old Dog is a companion piece to another full-length play by Joshua James entitled RUNNING IN PLACE. Both plays feature the same two characters, Bea and Bonnie, though with completely different stories. In RUNNING IN PLACE the story is focused upon Bonnie and Bea is a supporting character and in OLD DOG the show clearly belongs to Bea and her cranky boyfriend Hank.
How come you never got yourself married?
Ain't life hard enough?
Didn't you ever want a family, you know, kids?
Shit no. Can barely take care of myself, much less anybody else. What 'bout you?
Couldn't ever have kids. 'Cept for that, my marriage was a roarin' success, up until he passed on.
I met a few girls I liked enough to marry, but I always liked 'em so much I figgered why ruin their lives by makin' 'em live with me.