Friday, August 5, 2016

Miss Darcy Visits Her Doggie Shrink

“So, Fraulein Darcy Wasylowski is it? How do you do. I am Doctor Samoyed Freud, eminent dog psychologist, voted Best of Breed, Vienna Kennel Club, 1943. Please to make yourself comfortable. No, not there. Not there either. Fraulein, you are supposed to lie on ze couch, und keep your paws in ze air! Vunderbar. Now, tell me about what has brought you to mein esteemed doors today. I hear that perhaps you haf a problem mit storms...”

 “Yes, doctor. It is a small problem. Very small. Hardly noticeable.”

“But, you are trembling. Und drooling. Und your eyes are rolling around like brown marbles…”

“Be quiet! Was that thunder? I think that was thunder, don’t you?”

“Nein, dat vas not thunder. Dat vas my stomach. Fraulein could you please get back on top of ze couch, und not under it?”

“Nope. I’m fine right here.”

Ach du lieber. What do I care? It’s all bratwurst in ze end. All right, now Fraulein Darcy, tell me ven your fear of storms began.”

“That would be just after my first family brought me home to their trailer park. I was just a puppy then. I don’t think I – what was that?”

“What? You mean ven I just sneezed.”

“Really? That was a sneeze? Sounded like a geyser erupting. Let me just quickly write out a short will… “

“Actually, ve must hurry along, Fraulein. My next appointment is in ten minutes; a Siamese cat who believes he is Archbishop of Canterbury… 

... so, if you could please go on. Your first family brought you home. Vas it a nice home?”

“It was… unfortunate. My people chained me outside their trailer, and then I think they forgot about me. The lady next door brought me food and water.”

“Und how long were you out there each day?”

“All day, all night for about a year, rain or shine, or hurricane.”

“Und how did zis make you feel?”

“I learned how to dig under a trailer and eat pinecones. The police came and took me away. Now I’m with a different mom and dad.”

“I see. Und how does zat make you feel?”

“Great. They feed me, and I have a huge fenced in yard, and a baby brother, Alfie, who is one dog biscuit short of a box. We sleep on 85% of the king size bed. We eat cereal or eggs in the morning. It’s wonderful.”

“Yah, I see. It sounds very good. Und how do your new parents handle ze storm related panic attacks? Vat tools do they employ? Desensitization to sound? A snug garment? Behavior rewards?”

“Oh, no, none of that.”

“Really? What then?”

“Drugs! Doggie Xanax. Works every time.”