The Nose Knows (10 page)

We have a friend who has the same problem. His name is Chester. He’s a Cocker Spaniel who’s frightened of anything that moves. His human fails to comprehend Chester’s repeated requests that a big chunk of grass and a fire hydrant to be moved into the living room. In Chester’s opinion, this would solve all his problems. Then he’d never again have to go beyond the security of his house. But his human is fixated on the erroneous idea that all dogs really want to go for a walk. She pulls him down the block every morning. Hard to imagine how she rationalizes the health benefits of this when the trauma to Chester’s neck is enough to make us cringe.

We pitch in to help Chester. Fearless takes the lead and I cover the rear. Of course, Fearless thinks he is too superior to be covering the posterior aspect of anything or anyone, so I take that assignment.

We help reassure Chester that he’s safe. I’ve been in this neighborhood longer than any other critter, so I can travel wherever I want without boundary disputes. Any critter I call “friend” must be accorded the appropriate respect. True, some accuse us of acting like the Mutt Mafia, but that’s just the way it is. Though I abhor violence, I know I can muster up a whole pack of critters with just one howl. Anyone who challenges my authority must be ready to take on the whole neighborhood. The bottom line is simple; no one dares mess with the Spunk!

Just as we encourage Chester, Mom performs a similar service for Donny. She accompanies him on his journey and assures him that he’s safe. Although Donny’s goals differ from Chester’s and don’t involve a fire hydrant, he too is scared and unable to relax.

The next client to log was Cynthia. She is twenty-five years old and resembles a Chow dog. Even on a good hair day, she has too much frizz. Unlike Donny, Cynthia has no problem speaking up. In fact, she has an opinion on every subject and makes sure that you know it. She sought Mom’s help for one reason. Apparently, she’s unable to keep a friend for longer than a few months. I give her credit for being smart enough to know that if she wants things to change she needs to do something about herself. The current obstacle is that she seems to be clueless as to why she annoys people. Boy, could I give her a list!

Of course, Cynthia made sure to let us know how smart she was about computers. She works as a computer programmer for some big insurance company. Cynthia always logs in to the group sessions from her home, and of course, she has the most technologically advanced equipment.

The next to log in was one of my personal favorites. Well, at least one of the two faces on the screen was a favorite. Alan and John always log in together. In unison they recited, “Good evening, Dr. Richards.”

I didn’t have to see their faces to know that John was smiling and Alan was not. Alan is usually sullen, moody and bossy. John on the other hand is sweet and smiling. John is also in definite need of a backbone. They are two middle-aged gay men who are working on their relationship issues. Mom has been seeing them for several months now. I personally would love it if John-boy would turn around and take a good nip out of Alan.

“Well, good evening to you both.” Mom was smiling. She too liked John. “We’re still waiting for Melanie to log in so we’ll give it a few more minutes.”

“Melanie, late?” Alan remarked. “My, my, what else is new?”

“Just give her a break, Alan. Not everybody is as uptight as you are about being on time.” John’s voice was unusually snappy tonight.

“Well, Johnny-boy, good manners are good manners, and Ms. Melanie—”

“Oh, Alan, why don’t you just hush!”

My ears perked up, John’s voice finally had a bit of snarl to it. Tonight might be the night he progressed to a full-blown growl!

One advantage to Mom’s computer system is that she can mute any or all of the incoming microphones. With a sigh, she muted the line to John and Alan. She knew that for the next hour she’d hear enough of their arguing; she didn’t need a preview. Alan is a bully and John takes the role of the “weaker sex” too seriously. He’s learning to set limits, but his progress is much slower than Mom would like.

Technically both of them are her clients and Mom is not supposed to have favorites. She had said, however, that she believed John was more capable of change than Alan was. Bullies can be so insecure that they can’t let go of their tough behavior. John, on the other hand, just needed a good enough reason to stand up for himself.

While we waited for Melanie, Mom reviewed her notes from their session a week ago. Meanwhile, I thought back to how we’d gotten Melanie to agree to attend group therapy.

Melanie had been seeing Mom and me several times a week now for about six weeks. She had gotten a job working for a secretarial pool. She’d actually been employed for three weeks now without being fired. That was progress. She still moaned and groaned about having to come to therapy, but I think she liked her sessions with us more than she’d admit. When Mom suggested starting group therapy, Melanie balked.

She hemmed and hawed. “Gee, Doc, I don’t know. I’m not great around strangers, you know. Why can’t we just keep things as they are? Why does it have to change?”

Mom told her she’d benefit from being in a group setting and interacting with other people. But, if you ask me, Mom was being a little too wishy-washy. She told Melanie that she wouldn’t require that she attend. It was her choice. I, on the other hand, wasn’t going to let her off that easy. I still sat on Mom’s lap for all of Melanie’s sessions and, lest anyone forget, I was still the one in charge.

I slowly lowered my head, raised my eyes, and stared at Melanie. I looked like I was peering over a pair of spectacles. The message was clear: “Young lady, you know the right thing to do here.” If she got stubborn, I was all primed for a good staring contest. In the unlikely event that failed, I could always scratch my ear and turn it inside out on top of my head. That and a specially designed head tilt should send her into a fit of laughter and knock her off her high horse.

But this time, I didn’t have to use trickery. Melanie paused. Her eyes shifted. She was thinking.

I realized how much she’d changed. She wasn’t as angry or as stubborn as she’d been six weeks ago. In fact, she now reminded me of the cute Shih Tzu, Baxter, who lived down the street. He was one of those adorable floppy-tailed guys with an overbite. Just seeing him was a tail wag. But he too has a stubborn streak. He can stare right at me, acting as if he doesn’t have a clue what I’m talking about. Meanwhile, he goes on doing exactly what he wants to do. But he’s so gosh darn cute, I just don’t care that he’s being ornery.

Melanie was still a far cry from cute, but she had the same look. It said: “I see you staring at me. I don’t know why you’re bothering. I don’t have any intention of doing what you want.”

Definitely the “Baxter look.”

No problem, I’m still the boss of her. As I peered over my nose, I cocked my head slightly to the left and furrowed my brow. My last move was enough to end the “look.” Maybe now all the work she’d done with Mom would carry her in the right direction. Her eyes softened. Right then I knew she’d chosen to trust Mom. She agreed to try the group.

Mom had also tried Martha Bittner in the group. But after just two sessions, Mom yanked her back into individual sessions only. Martha kept telling everyone in the group what they needed to change about themselves. Mom decided Martha, like Joyce, needed more one-to-one time. Melanie, on the other hand, had managed to adapt to the group fairly well.

But, like Bobby, Melanie still pushed the envelope and was often the last one to arrive. The place where she worked was a prestigious law firm. She usually logged in from work. Since the meeting was at eight p.m., she had access to several offices loaded with computers equipped to communicate with clients all around the world.

Five minutes later, when she did sign in, Mom noticed the computer signature. “Melanie, are you sure it is such a good idea to be sitting at Mr. Berger’s desk? His law firm pays your salary, remember?”

“Oh, Doc, don’t be such a worrywart. He gave me permission tonight to use his office so I could have some privacy. Besides, I’m locked out of all his files.”

“Okay, if you say so.” I could tell from Mom’s voice that she wasn’t totally convinced. Melanie prefers her own rules, and if the truth doesn’t fit into her plan, well then, she’s been known to adjust the facts to her advantage. My guess was she actually did talk her boss into letting her use his computer. Despite her significant anti-social issues, I couldn’t deny the girl had a lot of spunk.

Mom spoke next, “Okay, now that you’re all here, I want to remind you we’ll not be following our usual format tonight. Last week I told you that a new client, Mr. Johnson, would be joining the group. He’ll be logging on for the last half hour of our session. That way he’ll have met all of you and next week he’ll not feel like an outsider. Now, that doesn’t mean you get the night off from working. We’ve plenty of time to discuss last week’s assignment. As you remember, each of you was supposed to identify a behavior in someone else that makes you want to scream. Who wants to go first?”

I bet two dog biscuits it’d be Donny.

“Okay, Donny, you were the first to signal, so go ahead and tell us the behavior that you chose.”

Am I good or what?

“Well, Dr. Richards, I struggled with narrowing it down to just one behavior. But you said one, so that’s what I did. I’d have to say that the behavior that annoys me the most is people who don’t listen. People who always have to be talking. I hate that. You can’t get a word in edgewise. I just hate it. ”

I looked up. Donny had folded his arms across his chest and sat back in his chair. He was not big on elaboration.

“Okay, Donny, that was good. Now let’s go around the group. Each of you should name the most annoying behavior that you can think of. Cynthia, what was your choice?”

“Mine would have to be people who always have to be right.”

I bet she was pointing her chin right at Alan.

“John, what about you?”

“People who are arrogant and full of themselves. People like that have always bothered me. They think they’re better than everyone else.”

“Alan?”

“Crybabies. I can’t stand whiners. I want to smack them right upside the head.”

“And last but not least, Melanie, what about you?”

“Phony baloneys! God, I can’t stand people who act all sweet and nice to your face and then the moment you turn your back they gossip and backstab you. Worse than that, they actually think you’re stupid enough to not know they’re doing it!”

“Okay, so let’s review. For Donny, it was people who monopolize the conversation with non-stop talking. For Cynthia, people who think they’re never wrong. John said it was arrogance. Alan’s choice was people who whine, and Melanie hates phonies. Now tell me—how do you feel when someone demonstrates that behavior?”

The one word everyone agreed on was “angry.” I knew that Mom wasn’t going to leave it there.

“Anger is a common, honest emotion,” she said. “However, it’s a secondary emotion. Anger is created to cover up a primary emotion. So tell me, Donny, besides anger, what else do you feel when people monopolize the conversation?”

“Stupid.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re talking and thinking really fast, and I feel stupid because it takes me so much longer to know what I want to say.”

Mom’s smile was kind. “But it didn’t take you long just now to answer my last question. You immediately said, ‘Stupid.’ So why do you think that was easy for you?”

“That’s simple. I trust you and you don’t make fun of me.”

“Good insight, Donny. Now, I want the rest of you to tell me what your primary emotion was
before
you felt the anger. Cynthia, people who always need to be right make you feel—?”

“Stupid, would be my word too, but it makes me feel stupid because they act like I couldn’t possibly have an opinion that might be worth listening to.”

“John, arrogant people make you feel—?”

“Inferior. They think they’re a whole lot smarter than I am.”

“Alan, people who whine; what emotion is triggered in you?”

“Anger. I heard what you said, but the only thing I feel is anger.”

“Okay, Alan, we’ll leave that there for now. Melanie?”

“Phony people make me nervous. You can’t trust them. They’re always up to something. They always end up hurting you.”

“Very good. Now, one last question. What person in your life acted this way? Who is the first name that pops into your head? Donny?”

Donny dropped his head and spoke so softly no human ears could hear him.

“It’s okay, Donny, but you need to speak up.”

“My mother.”

“Thank you, Donny. I know that wasn’t easy for you. Cynthia, what about you?”

“I never made the connection before, but my father always had to have the last word and he always thought he was right about everything.”

“John?”

“Yeah, I would have to say my father, also.” His voice then dropped very low and he whispered, “Arrogant son of a bitch.”

My translation. “Arrogant son of a female dog.” Humans find this phrase offensive. To a dog it can provoke fond memories of their mother. I rather like the phrase.

Alan jumped in, “Oh, here we go again, Johnny-boy’s Daddy never understood him, boo-hoo. Poor little gay boy got his feelings hurt.”

“Okay, Alan that’s enough.” Mom’s voice definitely had a snarl in it. “Why don’t you tell us which person in
your
life was the whiner?”

Alan didn’t sound so cocky now. In fact, he too spoke in a whisper. “My brother. He whined all the time. My dad hated it. But that didn’t stop my brother from being the favorite son.” He too folded his arms and sat back. Guess that was all he wanted to say on that subject.

“Melanie, how about you? Who’s the first name you think of when you think of people who are phonies?”

Melanie’s head went up and her defiant chin stuck out further than usual. “My father was a phony. He always said he loved me, but he lied. He never did. He was the worst phony of them all. But it doesn’t bother me anymore. I don’t care what he thinks!”