The Nose Knows (5 page)

This particular day was better than usual. Mom had found a good home for Willy, the rescued pup, so today it was back to just the two of us. I for one was enjoying it immensely. I know it was important to teach Willy how to act properly around other dogs, but having to keep an eye on him had cramped my freedom to let loose and play. Now I was unburdened and loving every minute of it. Mom seemed to also be enjoying the return to our old ways. Her steps were livelier. She was looking up at the sky instead of watching for where the pup was. We both were having a delightful time.

“It’s really a grand day, Spunk. They don’t get much better than this. And since we don’t have any clients until later tonight, we can just take our time and enjoy it all we want.”

It was good to see her so happy. Sustaining her happiness has been a challenge. For example, we might be walking in the park and see a friend with a new little puppy. This always makes Mom happy. Puppies are adorable. There is an instantaneous surge of joy when she sees the puppy, but since Dad died, it tended to end more abruptly. As we walked off by ourselves, Mom might say, “Daddy sure would’ve liked that little one. It doesn’t seem right to be happy without him here to share it. In fact, Spunk, I feel guilty when I’m happy.”

You humans make a great deal out of this thing called guilt. How do I know? Because, you repeatedly try to make us feel guilty. Every canine friend I know has heard the “bad dog, shame on you” speech. Yes, our tail goes between our legs and we hang our heads. Do we feel guilty? Heck, no. We’re simply reacting to your anger and that finger of yours being stuck in our face! As soon as you change your tone, we’re fine. Guilt isn’t something critters relate to.

However, on this glorious day, Mom was guilt-free and feeling happy. We were both having a wonderful romp. The fact Mom was at such peace may have helped her gift activate more easily. She was able to hear my warning.

I noticed the man approaching us. His appearance didn’t alarm me. His clothes were neat and carried no unusual odors. He looked well groomed. His body language held no warning signs. Still, something wasn’t quite right. I couldn’t yet make it out. He slowed as he got within earshot.

“Excuse me, Miss, but my car ran out of gas just a block from here. I had to leave my wife and kids in the car. I know it sounds crazy but I simply don’t have any money on me. I’m trying to collect enough money to get some gas so we can get to our house on North Avenue. Could you please help me?”

I’ve never seen Mom turn away from helping another human. Even when she didn’t believe their story, she usually gave them something. In the past, she has told me, “I know he’s lying, but if he has to lie that badly he must really need the money.”

She paused. Her hand shifted slightly toward her pocket. Then I smelled it. Fear. The man was afraid. Fear has a distinctive smell and it isn’t a pleasant one. I slowly moved in closer. This man stank with fear. His right hand began moving toward Mom’s arm. Not one finger, but the whole hand. It started to open. His hand was ready to grab Mom. His eyes shifted to Mom’s money pocket. His muscles tensed. Now, his body language was threatening.

I growled. “Mom, don’t do it. Walk away. Walk away. Tell him there’s a cop right over there.”

In the past, Mom always scolded me for growling at a human, but not this time. Her hand backed away from her pocket. She began walking away. In a calm and sincere tone she said, “I’m very sorry, but I simply don’t carry any cash with me when I’m walking in the park. Maybe the police officer I saw right over there can help you. Good luck.”

She quickened her steps and put some distance between us and the man. She said nothing more about it. However, later that evening Mom realized what had happened.

As she was fixing our dinner, she watched the local news. The reporter told about a man in the park approaching people and asking for gas money. When a person pulled out a wallet, he snatched it and ran off. The police were still trying to find him. The newscast showed a police sketch of what the thief looked like.

Mom stood staring at the TV. She walked over to the table and sat down. Her mouth was open, her breathing accelerated.

“Spunky, did you hear that? Look, look at that picture. That’s the same man who approached us in the park.”

Then her eyes and her mouth opened even wider. “Spunky. You knew, didn’t you? It was you that got me to walk away. I was wondering where in heaven’s name I’d gotten that idea to tell him I’d just seen a cop. I hadn’t seen a police officer all day, but there I was telling him I’d just seen one. It must have thrown him off. He didn’t bother us at all. You saved us, Spunk! You were right there with me when I stopped at the ATM machine before we went to the park. You knew I had all that cash in my pocket. You knew, didn’t you?”

Of course I knew.

Mom sat on the floor. I cocked my head and stared deeply into her eyes. “You’re catching on, Mom.” I gave her two licks to the nose.

“Spunky, I don’t know how, but I heard your warning. I must have understood what was beneath that growl. Isn’t that amazing? How did you do it? Come on, Spunk, do it again—go ahead, say something.”

I wagged. Mom was staring so intently into my face it made me snort. I stared back. Soon I had her laughing. Poor thing, she didn’t yet understand it’s impossible to hear anything when you are trying so hard. You can’t make it happen by waving a magic wand or wiggling your nose. You have to be in that quiet place—the zone. Yet, despite her lack of knowledge on how to activate it, I was now certain, Mom indeed had the gift.

M
om had a new client due to come on line at nine p.m. Mom always wanted us settled and quiet before the appointment time. This way when the client signed on, they didn’t see a cat streaking across the room, though Bobby has been known to cut it close. I settled in and looked around. Tonight everyone was present. Bobby was already in his favorite spot, up on the bookcase behind Mom. His spot was above the camera’s range and had a good view of the client’s face. Sessions are one of the few times Bobby stays quiet. Once before, he’d gotten mouthy and Mom had locked him in the laundry room until the session was over. He’s been a quiet audience ever since. Fearless was sitting on his favorite cardboard box, while Sweetie and Fancy-Pants were napping in their baskets.

We waited. By ten after nine the screen was still blank. No one had showed up. I started to say something about it to Fearless when we heard the client arrive.

“Hello? Is anyone here? The doorman said to just come on up. Hello. Hello?”

Even though Mom explains the set-up to everyone before they arrive, most are still startled to find no one in the room.

“Joyce, don’t be scared. This is Dr. Hannah Richards. Remember, I’m meeting with you via computer. Just sit down in front of the screen and you’ll be able to see me.”

“Oh, my God! You scared the life out of me.” Joyce certainly sounded edgy. “Boy, you sure made me jump. I forgot about the computer. Now what do I do here? I don’t know nothing about computers.”

“Just sit in the chair in front of the screen. That’s all you have to do. I can work all the communication controls from my side. If you’d like, you can take off your coat. There’s a hanger over by the door. Now just sit down and relax. That’s it. Now, why don’t you tell me what you’d like to discuss.”

“Heck, I don’t know. Aren’t you the one that decides what we talk about?”

“Okay, maybe you could tell me why you made an appointment to see a psychologist?”

“Cause my friend Annie told me I needed to. Annie’s a smart lady”

“And why did Annie think you’d benefit from counseling?”

“I don’t know. You’d have to ask her.”

We didn’t need a college degree to see communicating with Joyce was going to be a challenge. Mom would have to mind her words with this one.

Mom took a deep breath and tried again. “Okay, Joyce, what do you hope will change in your life by seeing me?”

“Maybe I’ll feel better.”

Mom’s smile was gentle. “Can you tell me what is making you feel bad?”

What followed was a soliloquy. It was softly spoken and with no emotion. The previous edginess in her voice vanished. It now sounded as if she was reading a script. She spoke in a monotone. No highs. No lows. No energy.

“I lost my four kids. The state took them away from me. I let them have custody. I just couldn’t take care of them anymore. See, I started drinking when I walked out on my husband. I didn’t drink before that. My husband, Hank, he was the drunk. I’d never touched the stuff. He got real mean when he drank. Three years ago he knocked out my front teeth. At least twice a week he threatened to kill me. That’s just the way it was. He had a gun and I knew he’d use it. Then four months ago, I found out he was abusing our twelve-year-old daughter. You know—sexually. The day that I found out was the day I took the kids and left. I told Hank if he was going to kill me he’d better go ahead and do it because that was the only way he’d stop me. All those years when he was beating on me, I was too terrified to leave, but when I found out he touched our daughter I went crazy with rage. I didn’t even think about being scared. I just took the kids and left. I took them to a friend’s house. I knew they’d be safe there. After they were safe, I walked into a bar and started drinking. I kept on drinking. Don’t ask me why, I don’t know why. I just did. I don’t remember a whole lot after that. I guess I stayed drunk for a long time. One day a social worker showed up and my kids were gone. I guess I drank even more after that. Then I ended up in jail. I dried out in jail, had no choice. When I got out, I didn’t drink again. I haven’t had a drink since. But my kids are still gone. If I had my way, I’d just kill myself. But I ain’t got the guts to do that either. The church says I’d go to hell, but I already live in hell, so what’s the difference? But killing myself would make it worse for my kids. It’s one thing to be a kid whose momma gave you up, but to be told your momma killed herself, well that could mess you up a whole lot. So I go on living. Most days I barely have the energy to do that. Guess that’s why Annie said I needed to see a shrink.”

Joyce stopped talking and looked down at her lap.

Mom’s one question had opened a lot of issues that needed to be talked about. Bobby’s response surprised me. He meowed softly, saying, “So much pain, but no emotion. Pain hurts. It hurts a lot. Joyce should be crying. Mom needs to know.” He was poised to come off the bookcase and head-butt Mom, but she was quicker than he was. She held up her hand and stopped him. She didn’t need any help.

Mom spent a lot of time that first session telling Joyce that leaving Hank had obviously been the right choice. It’d taken a lot of courage. And because of that she knew Joyce had courage in her. Mom told her if she was willing to work with her then she could learn how to make more good choices and she could start to feel better.

Later, Mom dictated that she didn’t think Joyce currently was a suicide risk. She said she might not have much to live for, but her children made the difference. Mom said if a person has just one good reason to stay alive it can be enough to keep them off the edge. Of course, Mom made sure Joyce had the number for her answering service and the assurance that Mom would call her back day or night. A client always got the answering service when they called. Normally they’d only take a message. The exception was when a client’s name appeared on the list that instructed them to page Mom immediately.

Joyce’s name was now on that list.

I
t was a good thing Mom was becoming more proficient at using the zone, because a completely new challenge had entered her life.

A new man.

He wasn’t one of her clients. His name was Jacob.

Mom and I met Jacob at the same time. It was a warm May day and Mom had decided to take a break that morning so we walked to Puppy Park. Jacob was there with his black Lab, Quincy. Ever notice how many men have black Labs? Maybe it has to do with the male fantasy about being the big, brave hunter. Who knows? Males of any species can act weird. But I did sense Jacob had a gentle presence. By human standards, he’d be considered handsome. My first impression was that it was worth investing some time into learning more about the man.