Possible "Sylvia" Audition Monologues:

Sylvia:

Hey! I’m looking around. I gotta get used to things. I’m not ready to sit. I’m too nervous to sit. I’m worried about where I sleep. Do I sleep on this couch? (Reacts to a quick smack) Ouch. I’m sitting, I’m sitting. You don’t have to hit, you know. It most certainly did hurt. You ought to be sorry. O.k. (Master reads, Sylvia sits looking at him) I love you. I really do. Even when you hit me, I love you. I think you’re God, if you want to know. I want to sit near you. Nearer, my God, to thee. You saved my life. You did. You saved my life. I never would have survived out there on my own. Oh no, not just anyone would have done the same thing. Someone else might have ignored me. Or shooed me away. Or even turned me in. Not you. You welcomed me with open arms. I really appreciate that. I hardly knew where to turn. I was beginning to panic. I thought my days were numbered. Then there you were. I felt some immediate connection. Didn’t you? I feel it now. I know you will try to give me a good home. And I’ll try to show my appreciation. (Hearing something, she begins to bark) Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!

Sylvia:

(to Greg) You have to send me away? Where? A kennel, as long as it is a few days. How long. Forever? You're choosing Kate! You can't have both of us? She sure doesn't like me. Lord knows I've tried to please her. Do you love her? I thought you loved me. I thought there was talk of you and me moving out- getting an apartment over 69th street near the park.You've suddenly chickened out. I feel awful. Sending me to a family in the suburbs! Thanks for letting me in on it, but I hate the suburbs: That Akita in the park used to live there. He said you're totally alone there, with no sense of being a part of the pack. I don't want a "family" cuz I hate babies crying, kids grabbing me, stepping on my tail. I hate teenagers.They're totally unreliable. They forget to feed you, play music that hurts your ears, lock you in some car for hours. Please Greg, don't do this! I'll change my ways. I'll stop chewing shoes, stay off the furniture! Just tell me what to do and I'lI do it! What? Today? Wow, you're something Greg. You really are. You bring me home, get me all dependent on you. Then you spay me, and destroy my womanhood! Suddenly you're packing me off to some boring nuclear family in the suburbs! Don't try to lie and say you'll come to visit, because you won't! You're so wrong, Greg. Read the Odyssey. That guy was gone for twenty years. When he finally came home, the first to recognize him was not his old nurse, his son, his wife - but his dog! When his master returned what did the dog do? He raised his head, wagged his tail, and died. Well, let's get it over with. Take me to the suburbs. After all, her majesty won't be there to object.

Kate:

I am not prejudiced Sylvia. When I was a girl, I read the Albert Payson Terhune dog books cover to cover. I watched Lassie on television. I am a huge fan of 101 Dalmatians. When we lived in the suburbs, when the children were around, we had several dogs, and guess who ended up feeding the damn things. But I don't want dogs now Sylvia. That is the point. Our last child has gone off to college and we have moved into town and the dog phase of my life is definitely over. I've gotten my masters degree, Sylvia, and I have a very challenging teaching job, and frankly I don't want to worry about animals. So, if you’ll excuse me, I will return to the daunting task of planning how to teach Shakespeare in the inner city junior high school.

Greg:  

I finally understand the word “limpid” now. She's got limpid eyes. Limpid, deep and serious all right, but that doesn't mean she's serious all the time. She laughs. I've actually seen her laugh. And she's got that great little butt. Everyone comments about her butt. But when she sashays down the street, she kind of wiggles it back-and-forth. A lot of people start to pet her, just because of that butt. And when we get to the park, the whole gang goes nuts for her. Even though she's been spayed, they gather around. You should see Bowser, for example. Oh and hey, I found this poem that Shakespeare wrote about her. “Who is Sylvia? What is she that all our swains commend her?”

Tom  

Look…women with dogs, no problem. A dog is basically another kid to them. It's a maternal thing. But for guys, it's different. When I come home at night, I have to remind myself to kiss my wife before I say hello to Bowser. I even think about him at work. I keep wanting to call him up and chew the fat. I don't think it's a gay thing, but I love that guy. And they say it's even worse if your dog’s a female. There was a guy here had a dog named Debbie— half basket, half beagle— sweet little thing. His wife walked in on him giving Debbie a bath and got so jealous, she gave away the dog.  The guy sued his wife for damages. The judge was a dog lover and came down on his side. He said a man and his dog is a sacred relationship. What nature hath put together, let no woman put asunder.

Ev'ry Time We Say Goodbye