Advice for Theatres Looking to Cast a Dog

Tori Bates and “Sunny” in Annie (Photo: Joan Marcus)

by Chris Peterson

So your theatre wants to cast a dog. Maybe it’s Annie. Maybe it’s Legally Blonde. Maybe someone on the team said, “What if the dog actually came onstage during the finale?” and everyone else just nodded. However you got here, you’re now preparing to rehearse and perform with a live animal. And I promise you, this can either be a complete delight or a complete disaster. Sometimes both at once.

Let’s start with the obvious. Do you actually need a real dog? There are plenty of productions that have used plush stand-ins, trained puppets, or even actors in costume for the sake of logistics. And those shows worked. But I get it. There’s something undeniably charming about a real dog doing its job with quiet confidence. That moment when the audience gasps and leans forward because the dog actually walked to its mark. That’s magic. But it’s only magic when everything behind the scenes is handled with real care.

Here’s what I’ve learned, from directors, stage managers, trainers, and a few very good boys and girls. The dog needs to be calm first and cute second. That dog your set designer brings to rehearsal for fun might be a lovable fluff at home, but will they still be lovable when the lights are up, the audience is clapping, and the fog machine kicks in?

I’ve heard stories that go both ways. A school production of Annie once cast a rescue dog who was trained by a former Broadway wrangler. Sandy hit every mark and stole every scene without ever upstaging the students. The show was tight, the handler was backstage every night, and the cast treated that dog like a member of the company. That’s how it should go.

And then there was a community theatre staging of The Wizard of Oz where Toto decided, mid-performance, that he was done. Ran straight into the wings and refused to come back. The actors kept going, of course, but it rattled the whole production. The audience laughed. The cast tried to recover. And the poor dog, who had never rehearsed with a full crowd, was just overwhelmed. That’s a situation that didn’t need to happen. It could have been avoided.

Here’s the truth. It doesn’t matter what level or setting of theatre, you need a trained handler. Not a dog lover. Not someone who’s “good with animals.” You need someone whose only job is to make sure that dog is safe and prepared. Someone who knows how to train for applause, how to desensitize for bright lights, how to work with stage management, and how to calmly step in when something changes. If you don’t have that person, don’t cast a dog.

You also need to rehearse with the dog. Not once or twice. Not just at dress. I mean early and often. Let the dog learn the space. Let them hear the score. Let them smell the costumes. The dog is a cast member, and they deserve rehearsal time just like anyone else. Don’t throw them into the final week and expect Broadway results.

And you absolutely must have a backup plan. Dogs get tired. Dogs get scared. Dogs get distracted. Build alternate blocking. Build understudy plans, even if it’s a stuffed version or a creative workaround. The audience will forgive a missing dog. They won’t forgive a frightened one.

Most importantly, the dog should never be used to save the show. That’s not their job. A well-trained dog can elevate a strong moment, but they cannot fix a weak one. Let them support the work, not carry it.

Live animals on stage can be wonderful. But they can only be wonderful when everyone backstage is prepared, thoughtful, and focused on care over novelty. The magic happens when the dog feels like part of the ensemble. When the applause comes naturally. And when, at the end of the night, that dog gets a treat and a quiet nap, knowing they did a good job. Because they did.