William Southold | Opinion Columnist |The Southold Report
“Speaking fiction to power one story at a time.”
My wife was away visiting grandkids, and I was left alone with “her” dog, Middie. It wasn’t going well. She got me up in the middle of the night to go out, and she constantly sat by my chair whining for me to let her jump up so she could sit with me. That’s my wife’s thing, she allows that, not me. After 4 days of this I decided something had to be done, so I took her to a therapist. It didn’t go as I had planned.
Therapist: So, as I understand it Mr. Southold, your wife is away for a few days, and you are feeling things between you and Middie aren’t going so well.
Me: Yes. To be clear, it’s her dog. It wasn’t my choice to get a dog. But, I ended up with . . . this.
Therapist: Please, Mr. Southold. We are in neutral territory here. Let’s all try to to give some consideration to how we would like to be treated.
Middie: He might start by using my name when he refers to me.
Me: Do you even come when I call you? When I use your name? I go hoarse using your name.
Middie: And what happens when I do come back? Click. Back on the chain gang. (to the therapist) There are things that need exploring . . . maybe if he lost some weight he could keep up. Or if he could learn to whistle, I like whistles.
Me: (to the therapist) I’ve tried, I’ve honestly tried. I always wished I could do a loud whistle.
Middie: (to the therapist) It’s pathetic. You should hear it.
Therapist: Now please, please. We must all agree to respect others in this space.
Middie: It would be a start, for some of us.
Me: Like I say, my wife’s dog.
Therapist: OK. Let’s move on. I tell you what. Let’s start with a basic trust exercise.
(At that moment my phone went off. I had to struggle to get it out of my pocket.)
Middie: (to the therapist) He didn’t see the sign in the waiting room - no phones when seeing the doctor - he was too busy looking at the damn thing.
I finally had to stand up to get my phone out.
Me: Sorry, it’s my wife.
Middie: Ooooh, can I talk to her?
Therapist: (shaking her head) Sorry Mr. Southold, no phones (pointing to a sign above her head).
Me: Sorry.
Middie: (to the therapist) He has his nose in that thing all day long. Watch, he doesn’t even know how to shut it off.
It took me a few seconds to turn off my phone. I put it in my pocket and sat back down.
Middie: (raising two front paws, giving them a couple pumps) Ladies and gentlemen, my “owner”.
She was air quoting at me!
Therapist: Look. I see what’s happening here. I’ve just made a decision. I think we should wait until your wife returns. When will that be?
Me: I pick her up on the 22nd.
Middie: I count the hours.
Therapist: Yes. I think we should wait until she gets home. Then I suggest we include her in this . . . group. I think that would be the best in this situation.
Middie: I’m on board!
Therapist: (to me) Do you think she would like to join us?
Me: Well, I cant’s speak for her.
Middie: Count on it Doc, I’ll see to it.
Me: I’m sure she would consider it.
Middie: Consider it done!
Therapist: All right then. Call me and, we will set something up.
The therapist rose immediately and motioned towards the door. She had obviously had enough of this session. I’ve been wrestling with the idea of whether or not I should tell my wife now of our suggested group therapy, or wait until she gets home to let her know about it. Then I just decided to make the whole thing public, and do it that way. Why hide from your problems? That hardly ever works out well in the end.
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(CNS Disclaimer: Mr. Southold has in no way won the Pulitzer Prize.)
Our dog Middie!
