When our podcaster Jim Barnard came to PT.23, he arrived in a big rickety old car, with a big rickety old dog, called Rupee.
An Irish Wolfhound, Rupee was huge, and at more than twelve years old, he was ancient (the breed’s average lifespan is seven years). Found in an animal rescue centre, he had belonged to Jim’s mother, and Jim had promised to look after him when she died, five years ago.
So it was that Rupee – outsized, grizzled and barely able to walk (he needed help to stand up) – joined our PT.23 team. We were staying in an apartment on the first floor. Jim, a former dancer, used to be able to help Rupee navigate stairs through a kind of man-dog contact improvisation of shared weight and momentum, but the stairs here were too much. Instead, Rupee stayed on his blanket, either just inside the front door when we were in, like an entirely placid guard dog; or in the neighbouring courtyard which served as PT.23’s main meeting point. There, he also became our keyholder, as we would hook our housekeys to his collar before going out, for safekeeping.
Other PT.23 people began to come over and strike up some dog-talk with Jim, or they’d pat Rupee’s back and ruffle his ears as they passed by. Even though they were performing arts bods full of youthful vigour and Rupee was clearly on his last legs, they seemed to find his presence oddly reassuring.
Doorkeeper, keyholder and finally memento mori, Rupee became an unexpected yet unobtrusive emblem of our time at PT.23. Two months later, he died. RIP Rupee – it was good to have you with us.
