The Nose Knows (11 page)

The room was quiet. Mom let them sit with their emotions for a few more minutes.

“Okay. The point is that people from our past have a big influence on how we react to things right now. You all just showed a lot of emotion. But I didn’t see anger. I saw hurt. I saw rejection. I saw loss of love. Those emotions make us feel uncomfortable and vulnerable. When you feel powerless, you cover up those feelings with anger. Over time anger becomes your knee-jerk reaction when someone’s behavior triggers that old emotion that you still haven’t dealt with.”

Mom paused and let the group ponder her words. “So for next week, I want you to think about the person you just named. Why is it that you still allow that person to have so much power over you? What could you do to change your reaction? I suggest that this would also be a good time for all of you to keep up with your journaling. Writing down your thoughts can help you process them. Now, it is just about time for Mr. Johnson to be logging on. Before he does, I want to remind all of you that I’ll be reviewing the rules that each group member is expected to honor.”

Cynthia chimed in, “Doc, would you like me to tell Mr. Johnson the rules? I remember all of them.”

Alan, of course, couldn’t let that one pass. “Hey, Cindy girl, don’t try and sound so smart. We all know that there are only three rules. Any idiot could remember them.”

“Oh Alan, give her break will you?” John snipped.

“Johnny-boy,” Alan said quickly, “why don’t you just be quiet and let me say what I want to say?”

Another advantage to this system, Mom can push her “speak” button and all the other voices are muted. “Hey, you two, let’s get back on track. All of you can try to act respectful to each other. Mr. Johnson is logging on now, so behave.”

“Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?”

I knew, without even peeking, that Fearless was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. He always gets a kick out of the new ones. A week before their first session, every new client receives easy-to-follow instructions and user-friendly software that includes a practice sign-in procedure. It even has a simulated group session. Despite these tools, the first time they sign on it is as if they are trying to connect to someone on the moon. Mr. Johnson was no exception.

“Hello, hello, hell-ooooooo, can you hear me?”

“Good evening, Mr. Johnson, this Dr. Richards. By now, you should be able to see all the faces of the group as well as mine on your screen. Is that correct?”

“Yes, I can see all of you now. Can you see me?”

“Yes, Mr. Johnson, I can see you just fine.” Right then there was a catch in her voice. She shivered. It was brief. I had no doubt that she’d reacted to something. I raised my head and looked at her face. Now she seemed fine. She continued as if nothing had happened.

I laid my head back down. I didn’t know what had caused her reaction, but I was certain it had happened. You humans can be frustrating. Your instincts send you an alert. Do you listen? Nope. As usual, your big brain gets in the way. You pause for an instant and if it isn’t obvious that something is wrong, you block the signal and go on as if nothing had happened. If you’d only take a few more seconds to listen and observe, you could avoid a lot of trouble.

So it didn’t surprise me when Mom forged ahead and said, “Okay, group, I’d like you to meet Mr. Kenneth Johnson. Before you introduce yourselves, I’ll go through the three rules that everyone is required to follow.

“Rule Number One: Whatever is said in this group is confidential, and every member must respect that. No one may discuss what is said in this group with an outsider.

“Rule Number Two: No one member is better or worse than any other. You each have issues that you are working on.

“Rule Number Three: Every member is expected to act in a courteous manner. Anyone acting out in an aggressive or threatening way will be barred from the group.

“That said, I’ll now ask each one of you introduce yourself and tell Mr. Johnson what you hope to accomplish by participating in this group.”

As Mom concluded, she opened the system so everyone could hear each other. In order to avoid everyone speaking at once, introductions are conducted in a clockwise fashion. Since that order was established when they signed in, Donny again went first.

“Hi, my name is Donny. I’m very shy and easily intimidated by people. I’m trying to overcome that by attending this group.”

“My name is Cynthia, and I’m trying to figure out why I have no friends. All I know so far is that there’s certainly no one in this group that could qualify.”

“My name is Alan, and this is my partner, John. He wanted us to come because he thinks we fight too much. I think he’s overly sensitive. But he wanted us to do this, so that’s why we’re here.”

“Hello, Mr. Johnson, my name is John. Despite Alan’s need to speak for us both, I’m fully capable of introducing myself. Would it be okay if we call you Ken?”

Mr. Johnson hesitated then said, “Yup, I guess that’d be fine.”

Of course, Alan had to butt in. “All right, Johnny-boy, no need to flirt with the new guy.”

John took a deep breath, “Ken, you’ll have to excuse my partner. Alan can act very jealous at times.”

Alan cut him off. “Jealous?” Who wouldn’t be jealous with the way—.”

“Okay, boys,” Mom interrupted, “let’s just proceed with the introductions. Melanie, you’re next.”

“Hey, Ken, like the doc said, my name is Melanie. My goals? Simple, to get the hell out of here just as fast as I can. About six weeks ago, the judge ordered me to start therapy with the doc or else go to jail. Of course, I chose therapy. It’s a pain in the butt, but it’s still a whole lot better than sitting in a jail cell.”

Mom smiled. She’d quickly learned that just because Melanie acts like a tough girl doesn’t mean she is one. Despite her current cavalier attitude, she’d made a lot of progress over the last six weeks. More and more she’d been able to drop her guard and let her true feelings show. But hey, Ken was new to the group so she reverted to her old ways.

Mom said, “Ken, now maybe you could tell the group a little about why you’re here.”

Ken sounded uncertain. “Me? Well, um, my doctor said I needed to start therapy. He says that my, um, blood pressure is too high and it is, um, worse because I don’t let go of stuff. He, um, says prescribing a pill won’t cure it. I need to, um, deal with stress. I have to learn to let go of things. I can’t do that. So that is why I’m here.”

Mom responded, “Okay, group, each one of you is working on something. Ken, before you signed in this evening, the rest of us had a shortened session. We discussed people in our past and the effect they have on how we react to things. They named the person who came to mind when they thought of the behavior that annoys them the most. The assignment for this week is to think about that person and to identify how they feel about them and why that particular behavior still can cause such a strong reaction. I reminded the group that this would be a good time to write in their journals. If you’ve never done any journaling this would be a good time for you to begin. That means you just sit and write out your thoughts as they happen without thinking about what you’re writing. See what you can learn about yourself. Does that make sense?”

“Do I have to show you what I write?”

“No, not unless you want to share it with us.”

“Do you promise no one else will see it?”

“Yes, I promise.”

“Okay, I get it.”

“All right, group, we still have another ten minutes before the end of our session tonight. Is there anything else you’d like to discuss?”

Alan was the first to speak, “Yeah, Doc, how come you don’t penalize people for being late? Seems to me . . .”

There he goes again. I snuggled down. I didn’t need a mute button to shut out Alan’s voice. We critters have a wonderful ability to shut out noise. Ask any human who has tried to get their dog’s attention when their dog is chasing a squirrel. Besides, there was just enough time for a short nap. At my age, naps are the only way I make it through the day!

“H
ey, Spunk, wake up.—
breath—
I want to talk to you.” Fearless was tapping me firmly on the head as I came to.

“Huh? What’s up, Fearless? Boy, I was really sleeping. Is the group over?”

“Yeah, they wrapped it a while ago.—
breath—
Boy, you sleep more soundly—with each passing year. But—at least you didn’t make those funny noises—of yours while Mom’s meeting was going on.”

They say I make noises when I’m in a deep sleep. I’m told that I growl and sometimes make soft whimpering noises. Of course, I know they are making up that last part. I don’t whimper! But I gave up arguing about it a long time ago.

“Yeah, yeah. Why did you wake me up?”

“Let’s go out to the backyard.—
breath—
I don’t want the others to hear.”

Mom was busy writing her notes from the session. The door to get out was shut. It took a little doing to get her attention. The usual tactic—staring at her— failed to get through, so I resorted to my single, soft whisper bark.

Mom pays attention immediately if one of her critters makes an “I need help” sound.

“Okay, Spunk, I’m coming. Thanks for not using your full bark; you know how that makes me jump.”

I licked my chops as I thought, “Yeah, you do jump pretty darn good when I let loose with the full effect.”

I try to save my louder bark for emergencies or those rare times that she’s ignored me far too long. Tonight that wasn’t the case, so I was gentle. As Mom got to the door, I gave her a thank-you wag. Fearless and I headed outside. Of course, the rest of the cats had to tag along. But hey, outside is a big space and there’s plenty of room for a private conversation.

It didn’t take long before Bobby headed off to eat some grass, Sweetie went off to watch the moths dance around the light, and Fancy-Pants started looking for the raccoon that always drives him crazy. Fearless and I walked over to the barn where we could get out of the cool night air. Fearless understands that I don’t stay as warm as I did in my younger years.

“Okay, Fearless, what’s up?”

“Did you see Mr. Johnson’s face?”

“Naw, I don’t bother looking at their faces much anymore.”

“Well, you should have. There is—
breath—
something not right—
breath—
about that guy.”

“So? We both know the human face can look pretty weird sometimes.”

“True, but it’s more than that.—
breath—
It’s his eyes. You know how—the new clients never quite know where to look.—They forget where the camera is and—keep looking down at the keyboard.—This guy was different;—he looked straight at the camera. I mean he stared at it.—So I got a good look at his face.—I didn’t like what I saw.”

“What did you see?”

“Spunk, all I can tell you is—that guy is hiding something.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake, Fearless, they are all hiding something. That’s why they need Mom’s help.”

“No, no, not like that.—This guy is deliberately hiding something.—He’s doing it on purpose. He’s lying—about everything. I’m telling you—there’s something—not right about him.”

I sat back on my butt and studied Fearless. He certainly was agitated. You already know that Fearless has issues with males because one kicked him in the head when he was a baby. Nevertheless, I knew that Fearless had probably already factored that into his observations. Fearless is aware of his personal issues, and he always takes extra care to note exactly what he’s seeing. He’s a very accurate reporter.

I thought back to the beginning of the session. I remembered that brief moment when Mr. Johnson had first signed on. Mom had shivered, and her voice had changed. Her instincts had reacted to something, and I’d thought Mr. Johnson sounded uncomfortable, but I’d chalked it up to the fact that it was his first time. Maybe if I’d listened more closely to my own instincts I might have learned more.

“Fearless, I believe you. Tell me what you saw.”

“Well, I’d say he was in his mid-twenties.
—
breath—
He was a large man and well-built,—with a muscular jaw and a thick neck.—But it was his eyes that bothered me.—I don’t know how to describe it, Spunk,—but his eyes were—just plain cold. He wasn’t looking—at any one else in the group. He only looked at Mom.—Now we both know that’s weird.”

“True, their eyes are usually moving around looking at whoever is talking. Just as if, they were all sitting in the same room together. On the other hand, most of them avoid eye contact with Mom. Like kids in school, they avoid looking at the teacher. Apparently, that’s not the case with Mr. Johnson. What else did you notice?”

“Well, I don’t know where he was signing in from,—
breath—
but there was another person in the room with him.—I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman.—The person stayed beyond the close range—of the camera, but when Mr. Johnson sat back in his chair, I could see—the person sitting on the couch behind him.”

“Maybe he has a roommate?”

“Maybe, but I think it was more than that—A roommate might pass through—the room a couple of times, but this person—just sat there. It was like he or she was there—to listen to what was being said.”