THE LAST DAYS OF DIGGER Copyrighted, Dan Schaaf, 1996 P.O. Box 533 Michigan City, IN 46361 Permission is given by the author, Dan Schaaf, to amateur theatrical groups to perform this play, live in public under the following conditions: 1) The author is notified before production, 2) The author's name is used in conjunction with any printed, published or broadcasted material relating to the play's production, 3) that a copy of any programs, reviews, etc. be sent to the author, 4) that the director of the play provide comments or criticisms of the play, 5) that the play is NOT recorded or broadcast without further authorization in writing from the author. Productions by other than amateur theater groups must contact the author and have written permission prior to any performance. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED by DAN SCHAAF and CRICKET FORUM. THE LAST DAYS OF DIGGER TOOT, The Cat MR. SWANSON (also the CLOCK) MRS. SWANSON (also the SUN) REBECCA Swanson (13 Yr Old) CLARA Swanson (9 Yr. Old) DIGGER, The Hamster Audience: Family Length: Under 20 minutes. Summary: The death of a pet hamster catches a family unprepared for death. (SCENE: Swanson's Home TIME: School Morning THE SET IS DIVIDED INTO THREE AREAS: THE KITCHEN, DIGGER'S ROOM AND CAGE (CENTER), AND THE LIVING ROOM. ONLY HINTS OF FURNITURE ARE NEEDED TO SUGGEST THESE ROOMS. DIGGER HAS TWO CAGES: A SMALL CAGE ON A TABLE, UPSTAGE, AND A "LIFE" SIZED CAGE IN WHICH DIGGER RESIDES, DOWNSTAGE. WHEN TOOT TALKS TO DIGGER HE TALKS TO THE SMALL CAGE ON THE TABLE. NEITHER TOOT NOR DIGGER WEAR ANY "ANIMAL" MAKE-UP LIKE EARS OR WHISKERS. AT MOST THEY WOULD HAVE SINGLE COLOR CLOTHING TO DIFFERENTIATE THEM FROM THE HUMANS. MR. AND MRS. SWANSON SIT AT THE KITCHEN TABLE. MR.SWANSON IS TIEING HIS TIE. DIGGER IS IN HIS CAGE AT THE PET SHOP. TOOT COMES FORWARD.) TOOT My friend Digger, the hamster, died a few days ago. Mr. and Mrs. Swanson, and the two children, Rebecca and Clara, are very sad. I am sad too. We all knew that Digger was going to die. His shiny eyes grew dim. It was just a matter of time. MR. SWANSON (LATE FOR WORK.) Wish me luck. MRS. SWANSON Let me kiss you before you go. TOOT That's how the mornings began at the house where I live. Rebecca and Clara soon came down the stairs. (REBECCA AND CLARA ENTER.) REBECCA Have you seen my homework? MRS. SWANSON I didn't know you had any. Last night you said you didn't have any. REBECCA I'm going to be in trouble if I can't find my homework. MR. SWANSON (Slow, calculating.) Maybe the cat ate it. CLARA Where's my boots? TOOT It was raining that day. MRS. SWANSON Look in the mudroom. Did either of you feed Digger? (Silence.) I guess I'll have to. TOOT Mrs. Swanson was the one that fed Digger even though the girls promised that they would take care of Digger when they bought him. (THE FAMILY IS NOW SEEN PEERING THROUGH A STORE WINDOW AT DIGGER WHO MOVES ABOUT FRANTICLY IN HIS CAGE.) CLARA Mommy! Mommy! Look at his cute nose! REBECCA And his furry cheeks! CLARA And his adorable little black eyes. DIGGER Squeak. MR. SWANSON I refuse to have an animal in the house if I'm the one who has to take care of him. DIGGER (Sad) Squeak. MRS. SWANSON Do you girls promise to take care of him? MR. SWANSON They didn't with the cat. Why should they now? REBECCA and CLARA Oh, we promise! We promise! MRS. SWANSON He is cute. MR. SWANSON What will the cat say? A hamster is, after all, nothing but a well-bred rat. CLARA He'll have a cage. A nice little house. I'll take care of him every day, mommy! Please mommy! Please? MRS. SWANSON Is it alright? MR. SWANSON If they promise it will be different this time. TOOT Digger was quite a fellow. He would run around and squeak, just like a mouse. But on my word (RAISES HIS HAND TO SWEAR) I never tried to eat him. (IN BACKGROUND digger ACTS OUT THE FOLLOWING:) Digger was strong. He could lift his cage door enough so that Rebecca and Clara had to put big heavy books on his cage. He was smart. When he got out of his cage, he hid in the hardest places to find him. (DIGGER RUNS ABOUT THE LIVING ROOM.) And Digger was kind. He seldom bit anyone and generally wriggled his nose at his friends. CLARA Digger is going to be in a race! MRS. SWANSON A race? CLARA I'm taking him down to Greg's Pet Shop for the annual hamster races. MRS. SWANSON I hope he wins! (DIGGER RUNS ABOUT THE TABLE, BRIGHT CHIPPER. THE GIRLS EXIT. MR. AND MRS. SWANSON RETURN TO THEIR OPENING TABLEAU.) TOOT At eight sharp the girls went to school. And by eight ten Mr. Swanson had had his last coffee and ran out the door to catch the eight-ten bus. (DIGGER RETURNS TO HIS CAGE.) That's the way it used to be. The day that Digger died went something like this: MR. SWANSON Wish me luck. MRS. SWANSON Let me kiss you before you go. REBECCA Have you seen my homework? MRS. SWANSON I didn't know you had any. Last night you said you had none. REBECCA I'm going to be in trouble. CLARA Where are my shoes? MRS. SWANSON Look in the mudroom. Have either of you fed Digger? REBECCA Feed Digger? He's icky and ugly. CLARA He's gross. REBECCA He's sick. I don't like sick things. I like bright pretty things. Furry cuddly things. TOOT Meow. MRS. SWANSON I guess I'll have to feed him. MR. SWANSON You shouldn't. The girls promised. MRS. SWANSON If I don't, no one will. TOOT And at eight sharp the girls went to school. And by eight ten Mr. Swanson had had his last coffee and ran out the door to catch the bus. MR. SWANSON Bye, Honey. I'll call you at the office if I'm going to be late. TOOT On the afternoon of what turned out to be Digger's last day, I went into Digger's room. You know how you lie when someone is sick or dying? You try to cheer them up. Tell them everything is going to be alright? I'm normally not like that. If something is wrong I don't hesitate to say so. I jumped on the table where Digger's cage was. It was hard for me to look him in the eye. It reminded me of how much fun he used to be. Hi Digger! He didn't speak. He raised one eyelid to look at me. Old pal Digger! Say Digger. How are you doing? DIGGER How am I doing? Not well, Toot. Not well at all. TOOT I think you should get up and about. You've been too lazy these past months. A little exercise never hurt anybody. DIGGER What? TOOT Yeah a little exercise. You're -- you're chubby. All you do is eat and drink all day. You've got to run about. DIGGER Humph! TOOT He was fat. A balloon! His little legs barely touched the ground. He waddled about in his bed of cedar and cotton. DIGGER I don't feel good. TOOT Of course you don't. You need exercise. And you don't eat right either. DIGGER I don't--feel good. TOOT Of course you don't. But there's always tomorrow, you know. DIGGER No there isn't. One day, one day there will be no tomorrow, and I think this is it. TOOT No, Digger. You're not going to -- I couldn't say the word. But I saw a little tear come out of his little eye. You're not going to, old pal. You're not going to. DIGGER I know I am because my friends, Rebecca and Clara, don't come to play with me any more. Remember when they first got me how they fought over me? How everybody wanted to play with me? How they laughed when I ran up and down my ladder and sat in my food? Now no one comes because I am fat and ugly and I am going to die. TOOT Cats being honest, and I being a cat, I had to swallow my basic cat pride when I said: You're not fat, you're not ugly and you're not going to die! Digger just shoved up his chin diffidently. DIGGER You're a cat. Cat's live to be ten years old. You have nine lives. And I have heard that humans live to be one hundred. TOOT I suppose so. DIGGER But look at me. I have one very short life. I'm only two years old. And I'm going to die! Oh how horrible! How horrible. How utterly horrible. TOOT There, there, Digger. Cheer up. DIGGER It's not right. It's not fair. TOOT I know humans better than you, Digger. Humans may live to be one hundred but they think slower than you or me. Why, in the time they have one thought, you and I can have ten or twenty and dismiss them all as foolish. It's not the quantity of life that counts. It's the quality. And our time is quality time. DIGGER Was. (Wipes his nose.) Do you think Rebecca and Clara will come and visit? TOOT I'm sure they will. DIGGER I hope so soon. I want to see them again even if they don't want to see me. It will remind me of happier times when I was young and bright. Memories are nice things. Almost as nice as the real thing. I will be very happy when they come. TOOT Digger turned over as he was wont to do in those last days and became drowsy. DIGGER I can't wait. I can't wait.... TOOT I looked at Digger as he slept. His little furry body was agitated with light tiny breaths. He woke suddenly as if from a dream. DIGGER Say Toot. I'm getting old, you know. Its been difficult for me to get to my water bowl lately. Last night, I tried to get to the bowl of water but I couldn't. Could you please push my water bowl closer to me? TOOT Why you lazy little fur ball! All you do anyway is sleep! DIGGER Please, Toot? Please? TOOT Why! I looked at his sad little eyes. Cat's sleep too. Well, alright, pal. I crept up to Digger's cage and with my paw I tried to push the water dish closer to Digger. (TOOT PAWS AT THE SMALL CAGE AND IT FALLS TO THE FLOOR.) Instead it went crashing to the floor. MRS. SWANSON Crash! DIGGER Squ-e-e-e-ek, ick, ick, ick! (DIGGER ROCKS BACK AND FORTH IN HIS CAGE AS IT SPINS. THE CAGE FALLS FORWARD AS DIGGER FALLS BACK STRETCHED OUT ON THE CENTER STAGE.) TOOT Meow-yelp! (HIDES.) The cage spun on the floor and the water and cedar flew about the room. What a mess! Mrs. Swanson is going to be angry with us! DIGGER With us? With you! TOOT I was only trying to help. DIGGER Oh my head! I feel sicker. TOOT Shush! I want to listen to see if she's coming. DIGGER I don't want her to hear me sick. Oh my head! Sque-e-e-ek! TOOT There, there. Everything is going to be alright. You'll get going pretty soon and get better and ... DIGGER You're making fun of me, Toot. TOOT No I'm not! DIGGER Yes you are. When I was strong, you said I was strong. And that was right. And when I was smart, you said I was smart. And that was right. And when I was kind, you said I was kind. And that was right. But now I am dying and you won't say that to me. And that's not right. Some friend! The biggest event in my little life and you lie about it! TOOT I'm sorry, Digger. DIGGER You should be! TOOT Alright then, you little fuzz ball! YOU ARE GOING TO DIE! I thought he would be mad with me saying such a horrible thing, but instead a small smile came over his face and we talked about things that we had never talked about before. (DIGGER AND TOOT EXCHANGE KNOWING LOOKS.) Private and important matters which I will not discuss in public ... Digger closed his eyes. Occasionally his nose twittered like it used to. I remember what a fun fellow he used to be. I didn't like him sick. I didn't like seeing his shiny fur all matted and dull and splotchy. I didn't like being there at all. I was sleepy too. And the sun was warm that afternoon. And -- warm sun -- makes me -(yawn)- sleepy. CLOCK: (COMING FORWARD.) Tick tock - tick tock. SUN: (COMING FORWARD.) I am the sun. I come through the windows on bright sunny days. I warm the backs of the cats that lay on the floor. CLOCK: I am the clock on the wall. I count the time. Tick-tock. Tick- tock. Not a minute do I forget. Not a second do I lose. I watch as all the seconds pass and tabulate their progress. (SHE RETREATS.) SUN: I watch the days and the seasons. Not a one do I let go with out a good reckoning of when it begins and ends. Today, I watch a cat sleep on the rug. I watch the water drip, drip in the kitchen sink. I watch a child come home from school. (HE RETREATS.) (REBECCA AND CLARA ENTER WITH SCHOOL BOOKS.) CLARA Mommy! I'm home. MRS. SWANSON (SITTING IN ROCKER, AS IF WAKING FROM A DAYDREAM.) Oh Clara! What happened at school today? CLARA Nothing. MRS. SWANSON Nothing? You learned nothing? CLARA School is bor-ing. I don't like school. MRS. SWANSON I remember when I was your age how I loved school because there was so much to learn. Aren't you curious about the world? Don't you wonder why snowflakes are all different or why the sky is blue? CLARA Well, that stuff is interesting. But school? Give me a break! MRS. SWANSON How was your day, Rebecca? What did you learn in school? REBECCA I hate boys! MRS. SWANSON Oh, I see. CLARA Rebecca has a boy friend! Rebecca has a boy friend! REBECCA I do not. Mother, will you tell Clara to stop acting like a two year old. CLARA I do not act like a two year old. You do. REBECCA I do not! CLARA You do too! REBECCA I do not! CLARA Do too! TOOT The noise in the living room woke me. I scampered past the girls and tried to get to the quiet basement. (AS TOOT PASSES CLARA, SHE GRABS HIS EARS.) Meow! CLARA You nasty cat! REBECCA See what I mean, mom? TOOT Meow! MRS. SWANSON Leave Toot alone. CLARA It's just a cat! TOOT I ran back into Digger's room. Digger? Did you see what Clara did to me? -- Digger? -- Digger? (DIGGER LAYS ON THE FLOOR, DEAD. TOOT RAISE HIS HEAD TO SHOW THE AUDIENCE.) His little eyes had X's on them like in the comics. And nobody had noticed when he died. He didn't even notice. Dopey like a hamster to the end. (HE LEAVES DIGGER. DIGGER EXITS.) None of the girls came in to see him. Mrs. Swanson swept up the mess on the floor. (PAUSE. MR. SWANSON STANDS AT THE BACK DOOR WITH A SHOE BOX IN HIS HAND.) I wanted to go see where they were going to bury Digger. I said to Mrs. Swanson: Meow! MRS. SWANSON I can't let you out. You're a house cat. You'll come back with scars and a cold and dirt and full of fleas. TOOT Meow! MRS. SWANSON Watch out for Toot when you go! He wants out. MR. SWANSON Why should you want out, Toot? You have a nice warm place here. How are the girls? MRS. SWANSON Clara is very sad. Maybe you should talk to her. MR. SWANSON About what? What can I say to her? Things die. It's only a hamster. MRS. SWANSON Comfort her at least. MR. SWANSON I'll see what I can do. TOOT That night Mr. Swanson went into the back yard and in the pale moon light dug a small hole. He dug about a foot down. MR. SWANSON (MR. SWANSON IS SEEN BURYING DIGGER IN THE GROUND.) Here you are, Digger. Your final resting place. TOOT (SITTING IN THE CHAIR THAT MRS. SWANSON USES IN THE LIVING ROOM.) I'm a cat and I know what humans think. Mr. Swanson, being a rather rational man, couldn't help thinking about the worms and insects that would eat away at Digger as he lay in the ground. He knew in a few months there would be bones and that in a few years his bones would become soft and melt into the ground ... I think a lot about Digger. I wasn't a very good friend at the end. I remember how helpless he was, even though that's part of Digger's story too, and how helpless I felt. Even when I tried to help him, I only seemed to make things worse. But at least I was there, even if I was asleep when he died. If I knew he was dieing I would have held his paw one last time. (PAUSE.) You know. Digger was a good hamster, and a very good friend.