The Nose Knows (3 page)

“Well, they were talking so loud even the people in the meat department could’ve heard them!” Mom was getting huffy.

Judy took a deep breath, leaned in toward Mom and gently placed her hand on Mom’s arm. “Hannah, just stop. You know as well as I do that when you start counseling total strangers over a bunch of broccoli, it’s time for you to start seeing patients again. I know you’re scared but it’s time to get back to work. It’s time, Hannah. We’ll put our heads together and figure out a way so you’ll feel safe, but there’s no denying it— you need to get back to work ASAP!”

Mom’s sigh was deep. “I know, I know. I knew as soon as I started walking toward those two women that it was wrong. You’re right, Judy, I need to get back to work.”

Right then, Mom began to plan how to see patients again. My potential fur loss ceased to be a problem.

She needed a friend to kick her butt and I needed a friend to save mine.

They talked a long time about Mom’s fear of being alone in a room with a patient. Mom said she’d never again put herself in harm’s way. So how could she possibly counsel people if she couldn’t meet with them?

Over the next few weeks, they spent many hours at our kitchen table working on a strategy. They combined technology and creativity to solve Mom’s problem.

We live outside of a town called Clearwater. It is a college town in Wisconsin. The town is about a thirty-five-minute car drive from our house, but less than a twenty-minute walk when we cut through the deep woods that surround our house on three sides. The town is small enough to not be called a city yet has a large population and a full array of services. Mom believed the town could easily accommodate another therapist. A friend, who’s a college professor, provided the technical details to make the plan work.

Mom set up a computer office downtown. She rented an office with two rooms separated by a heavy, locked door. In each room she had a technician install a computer, a large screen, a camera, and a microphone system. Mom could be in one office on her computer while the client used the one next door. Since each office had its own door to the main hallway, the client wouldn’t know that anyone was on the other side of the wall. When the clients arrived for their appointment, they logged in with the doorman. Mom tipped generously at Christmas, so the doormen were very willing to serve as her receptionist and, of course, they promised to never divulge that she was in the adjoining office.

That promise was easy to keep. Mom never went into the adjoining office. She stayed home. When the plan turned into reality, Mom realized she wasn’t ready to be that close to her patients. So she had the technician install the same equipment in her study at home. She used her own computer. The clients could see and hear Mom and vice versa. They had no way of knowing where she was located.

No one was sure if people would accept receiving therapy via computer. Turned out there were scores of people looking for a counselor who could see them late in the evening or early in the morning. I guess they didn’t care if Mom was physically in the room or not. All I knew was it didn’t take long before Mom had a full schedule.

A client could stay in their own home, too, but they needed a computer sophisticated enough to transmit their voice and video. If they didn’t have one, then they were welcome to go to the downtown office. But Mom remained safe and sound in her own den, even if a counseling session was late at night. Mom’s camera was set so the clients saw only her face. They couldn’t see us, our critter boxes and beds, or the fact that Mom might already be in her pajamas.

A
lot changed when Mom started seeing clients. It was then that we made our discovery. Mom’s ability to comprehend critters was far greater than what we’d ever imagined.

I always knew Mom was good at figuring out what I needed, but I thought it was because we’d been together so long. She knew my ways and I knew hers. When the cats came along, I saw she also had a talent for understanding each one of them. Now, I’ve heard some people are Horse Whisperers. They possess a unique ability to communicate with horses. I’ve also met people who claim they can tell you if your cat is depressed. In my opinion, any fool can tell you what a cat is thinking . . . but for me to say that aloud might be hazardous to my well-being so I’d best stick to talking about Mom.

Remember, when I was younger, Mom didn’t work at home. I’d never seen her interact with patients. Now I could. We all could. We were right there. We could hear everything that was said. The computer allowed us to see every face. It was as if they’d come for a visit but they arrived with no scent.

Mom was very patient with the humans. Being a terrier, I thought I held the record for testing her limits. Well, I did at least until Bobby came along. But some of these humans made Bobby look like a slacker. Many days Mom got seriously tired and needed help. That’s when we stepped up and provided assistance. The first time we came to her aid was three months ago.

The patient’s name was Martha Bittner. For the first few sessions, she came with her husband, Stanley. They’d been married for over twenty years and had two children who were grown and no longer living at home. She said that when the children left home, she thought Stanley would act differently. Well, the children were now gone and Stanley hadn’t changed. In fact, according to Martha, he was getting worse. One morning she woke up and the thought struck: “Stanley will
never
change.” When that revelation occurred, Martha became depressed.

We learned Stanley was a builder, and apparently he was good at what he did. However, Martha said he was becoming increasingly obsessive and bossy. Stanley disagreed. He simply didn’t understand why people (especially his children) weren’t anxious to spend time with him. To me, he acted like a bully, albeit a polite one. He wasn’t physically or verbally abusive, but he was verbally controlling. He dominated the conversation until Martha just gave up.

Stanley liked giving orders. He wanted his family to listen to him and follow his advice. He was a church-going man. He never cursed or threw things. But he did hound you to death with words. Even Mom’s eyes glazed over as she listened to him.

Truth of the matter, Stanley could be a real pain in the neck.

Now, Martha wasn’t a complete wimp. When she disagreed with Stanley, she’d tell him so. The problem was, she never growled. In fact, she only used one voice, and it was soft and sweet. Then if Stanley showed anger, Martha tucked in her tail, nodded her head, and stopped talking.

We listened as Mom dictated her notes.

“Martha is an enabler. She is a fixer. She feels it’s her responsibility to keep everyone happy. She thinks it’s her job to fix their problems. She believes if she can just keep Stanley and the children from arguing then everything will be okay. However, apparently nothing is okay. Stanley acts increasingly unhappy and obnoxious. The children stay away as much as they can. Martha now wonders if they’ll ever come home again. Martha works very hard trying to keep Stanley happy. She believes the husband is the head of the house and a wife should be submissive. She says she has to honor her husband and lets him have the final say. She tries to do all the daily tasks that he asks her to do. She works long hours. Martha speaks in a soft, controlled voice. I’ve never heard her raise her voice to Stanley. Yet, she lacks any awareness of her anger at Stanley. When she speaks to or about Stanley, she doesn’t hear the intense hostility in her quiet, well-controlled, polite but condescending tone. When I ask her about it, she repeatedly denies that she’s angry. End of note.”

Martha told Mom someone had to get Stanley to change. Mom repeatedly told Martha it was not her job to fix Stanley. It was Stanley’s job to fix Stanley. Martha didn’t understand. After two sessions, Stanley refused to come back. We couldn’t blame him. Martha droned on about wanting Stanley to change. We wanted to leave too. Martha now came by herself. She didn’t believe she had a problem, yet she was the one that Mom had to treat.

Week after week, Mom tried to get Martha to talk about her own feelings. Instead, Martha would talk about how she felt about something that Stanley had done. After many failed attempts to get Martha to focus on herself, Mom dictated her recommendation that Martha might do better with a different therapist.

Tonight’s session was no different. She again asked Martha what she expected to gain from counseling. Once again, Martha answered that she expected to learn how to change Stanley.

Mom’s shoulders sagged; she took a deep breath and started to speak. “Martha, I think our time together . . .”

Right then Fearless jumped up on the desk and took over the session. Fearless walked across the desk and stuck his face right in front of the camera.

Martha jumped back. “Oh, my goodness, a cat!”

Mom replied in a professional manner. “Martha, I’m so sorry. Fearless, get off the desk.”

“Fearless? Did you say, Fearless? How did he get that name?”

Mom explained how when he was a kitten he’d just walked right up to her dog and batted her in the nose. Hence the name “Fearless.”

Right then something shifted. Martha lowered her head and quietly muttered his name over and over. “Fearless. Fearless. Fearless.”

Martha raised her head. Her eyes were wide and her voice soft. “I used to be fearless. Years ago, I was fearless. I really
was
fearless, I truly was. When did it stop? I don’t know. . . . but . . . I’m sure not fearless now.”

She stopped speaking. Her lower lip quivered. Two tears rolled down her cheek. Her voice remained soft. “Now, I’m just plain scared.”

Mom and Fearless stayed quiet.

It was several moments before Mom spoke. Her voice was gentle. “Martha, can you tell me what you’re scared of?”

“I’m scared this is how it will be for the rest of my life. I don’t know how to make it right. I don’t think it will ever be right again.”

The silent tears turned into sobbing. Soon the sobbing took over her whole body.

Fearless reached out his paw and touched the screen. Mom reached over and stroked Fearless.

Mom muted the microphone and whispered. “It’s okay, Fearless, in time her crying will stop. Right now, she’s making up for all the years she was too afraid to cry. She’s reached a crossroad. A barrier has fallen. Now, change is possible. Maybe we can help her build a new foundation.”

Fearless lay down next to the screen. He stayed quiet. Mom and Martha spent the rest of that session talking about how people can lose their identity in a marriage and how that loss can result in anger and grief.

Later, after Martha had signed off, Mom sat stroking Fearless.

“Fearless, how did you know? How did you know I was just about to give up? I was about to tell her I couldn’t see her anymore. Did you intervene on purpose? Did you know she would relate to your name?”

To a human, it looked like Fearless was purring and rubbing his head against Mom’s face. I knew different. Fearless was communicating with Mom. All of us do this countless times every day in many different ways, but this was the first time Mom’s inner being was quiet enough for Fearless’s communication to penetrate.

She said, “I have the impression it doesn’t matter how you knew. You just did. You knew there was courage in her. She’d forgotten that. Hearing your name took her back in time. It became the key to unlocking her denial. She had to remember for herself that she once knew how to be fearless. It was already in her. I didn’t see it. I only saw who she was now, but you sensed something deeper. Thank you, Fearless. Thank you.”

As Mom’s body chemistry changed so did her scent. She’d reached a new level of tranquility. Her calming energy radiated outward. I sensed that Mom’s current level of quietness was close to what we critters experience. It’s how I am when I sink into that sun puddle.

A life force flows within all living things. It’s a peaceful but powerful force. When a human taps into this zone, we sense their heart rate slowing. I believe their senses expand. A homeopathic veterinarian told Mom that unless they have been traumatized by something, all animals live in harmony with their life force. It generates an energy field around them. When a human strokes them, the two energy fields meld together. Humans absorb our calming energy and they become calmer. Many humans have testified to the calming effect that occurs when petting an animal, but very few actually enter the zone for themselves.

Mom just did.

I now knew—Mom had the gift.

That night as Mom slept, I let Fearless stay right beside her. I wasn’t jealous. I was glad Mom was happy. I had no way of knowing what this new level of communication would mean for all of us. I may be wise, but I’m not clairvoyant.

I got up and walked into the kitchen to check on the new pup. He was sound asleep in his crate. That last romp in the park must have done him in. As I headed back to Mom, I said goodnight to the rest of the “boys.” They were in their baskets or nightly hiding places. I didn’t see all of them but I heard gentle snores and purring. They were fine. Some cats have a way of disappearing into the darkness.