by R. J. Kottke
08:45 ante meridiem
Dr. Bippy's Diagnosis:
The PSM makes it clearly obvious that the guy is displaying some tendencies that lead me to diagnose him with transient explosive disorder. The way he yells at me to go sit in my playpen is appalling, not to mention concerning. Despite my selfless attempts to help him see that he has a problem, it has all come to naught because I'm constantly forced to sit in the playpen when I have been deemed “emotional.”
The girl on the other hand is harder to pin down. After some thoughtful investigative research and observation, my diagnosis is that she has attention omission disorder (AOD), clearly evidenced by the fact that she does not pay adequate attention to me. I am feeling her deficit. In addition, she has been ignoring my plaintive looks whenever she brings home a skinny vanilla latte from the coffee shop. She pretends to look confused to such a point that I think it is an obvious ploy to not share with me.
Concerning me, I think I'm having the beginning stages of restless leg syndrome, chronic cough, and an annoyingly itchy lip. In addition, I am pretty sure that the tap water in this town has shortened my life, the local peanut heads are out to get me, and I have had several sleepless nights. Added to that, my stomach has been making a lot of very disconcerting noises lately, an obvious attempt to challenge me so I have diagnosed my digestive tract with oppositional defiant disorder. My issues though, are not nearly as serious as the guy’s and girl's.
09:30 ante meridiem
The guy has put away his PSM V and has decided to take another approach in my evaluation. He is going to take me fishing instead. “We'll make you a real dog yet Bippy.”
While he went looking for his fishing gear in the basement, I tried to call Peepaw on the guy's cell phone. Drat! He didn’t have his number on speed dial. I wanted to learn more about the peanut heads but that would have to wait for another day. I could hear the guy walking up carrying his tackle box.
10:52 ante meridiem
The guy insisted I wear a life vest. “The water is deep and cold Bippy. Remember, we're up north now.”
The guy pretended to fish but I knew he was still conducting his evaluation of me so I played it cool and didn’t reveal much at all, even when we floated above a peanut head, who was underneath the water fishing. Apparently peanut heads don’t need to breathe. At first the sight of the peanut head underwater startled me and I wanted to bark and carry on, but I knew I was being carefully watched, so I pretended to be interested in a fishing lure instead.
After some time, my stomach started to gurgle quite a bit. The guy didn’t know this but after he fell asleep last night, the girl came back down, grilled an extra cow brain steak she had in the freezer, and fed me the dinner that I was so rudely denied earlier. I was starting to feel the effects of that late night meal out in the middle of the lake.
The guy paddled back to shore. I could tell he was very frustrated about cutting our therapy short , probably he was most upset about not yet having a billable diagnosis for me. I had to ask myself this question, “Does the guy seriously make a living as a psychologist or does he really spend the day roller blading in the park?” I am leaning towards the second option, especially after he decided to have me go for a short swim to float away my anxieties. He was right. The water is deep and cold.
11:39 ante meridiem
Once we got back to the house, the guy tried some dance therapy. Apparently, he read a research article online that suggested dog dancing as a means to help your “canine companion” work on emotional issues.
I thought that’s what the pills were for, you know, down the hatch once a day every day. On my therapist’s suggestion I’ve even taken up blogging. At first, I was resistant to it, but eventually, I came to see that blogging had many benefits. To date, I have fifteen subscribers.
Well, anyway, after I realized that this “dance therapy” was not just some attempt to amuse himself at my expense, I decided to fully participate in my therapy; especially after the guy questioned my dancing ability, thus indirectly challenging me to a dance off. Although this may have been highly unethical, and crossed doctor/patient boundaries, accepting the challenge may have had some therapeutic benefit.
First, it provided the guy an opportunity for some physical exercise. He was a student of West Side Story-style dancing, so he had to vigorously leap and frolic in mid-air while wearing his man-leotard. This forced him into exhaustion.
Second, it was a most engaging distraction, which focused his attention away from me, and he was not able to stalk me through my blog. No need for alarm. The stalking behavior he has displayed is rooted in a well known psychological phenomena called transference, and it’s not uncommon in psychiatric patients. I have been well trained to handle it.
12:25 post meridiem
The girl came back from the coffee shop with another skinny vanilla latte. This time, when she turned her back, I took a couple large laps. When she turned around, half of the latte was gone. She raised her eyebrows and gave the guy a concerned look. “Is there something you want to tell me?” The guy looked very confused and I went upstairs to take a nap on the pickly leather couch.
Day 19: The Visit
2:27 post meridiem
Pastor Tom, the leader of the church the guy and girl were attending while in town, stopped by for a visit today. What was it with these Minnesotans? Didn't they ever call before they just “popped over?” Was I ever in a bad mood; I was just in the process of settling down for my second nap of the day with Jody in the office. I decided to saunter on down to see what was up.
“Hello pastor,” the guy greeted, trying to hide his look of confusion, “Was there something going on over at the church today that we missed?”
Pastor Tom's smile looked as stiff as his hair. “I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by and get to know our two new attendees.”
The guy suddenly remembered his manners and invited Pastor Tom in. The girl ushered him into the dining room for a cup of coffee and organic sugar cookies.
I followed close behind for two reasons: I was curious about why he was here and I intended to sample some of the sugar cookies.
The pastor graciously accepted the cup of dark roast that the girl placed in front of him. After he took the first sip, I could tell that he thought it too strong. His mouth puckered and he scrunched his eyes. Ha! Couldn't take it could he? He was probably used to the typical light Minnesota roast, which bears a strong resemblance to tea. Not to worry, I would drink it if he couldn't.
Pastor Tom took a bite of cookie before he started, “It's been nice having you both at church. Such a dedicated couple.” Blah, blah, blah. Where did the girl put my plate of cookies and cup of coffee?
“We enjoy your sermons,” the guy said, “They're...very interesting.”
“Why yes, they are,” the girl quickly agreed, piling more cookies on his plate, which he quickly reached for. He didn't even bother to offer me one.
Okay, I was real mad at this point. I went over, got up in a chair, and made direct eye-contact with the girl. But she ignored me. Obviously her AOD was acting up again.
“Well, I'm glad to hear that my sermons are making an impact in your lives. I want to make sure that every new member hears the message of packing peanuts. It’s one of the more important issues in the world today.”
It was as clear as the cookie on the pastor's plate that the guy and girl didn't have a clue to what he was talking about, but they nodded their heads in agreement anyway.
Pastor Tom looked pleased. He even took a second sip of his coffee and only grimaced a little.
“Well, now, I should get going. I have to see to our summer packing peanut party. There's lots to do and so many little details to take care of.” He ate the last cookie on his plate before he stood to leave. The guy and girl walked him to the door with a promise to attend the much anticipated party later in the summer. Pastor Tom even invited me.
The girl made sure that Pastor Tom was drivin
g away in his car before she asked the guy, “Do you understand the message of the packing peanuts?” The guy waxed philosophical, “I think it's an allegorical or metaphorical attempt to looked at the world in a highly theo-bio-physio-socio-agronomical manner.” The guy and girl carried on their highly nonsensical conversation as they went up the stairs, which was perfect. I had a cup of unfinished coffee to attend to.
Day 22: Pepaw (Part 2)
9:14 ante meridiem
The guy and I are headed out to the farm to see Peepaw today. The girl won't be joining us. She just left for her coffee shop knitting group, which she joined two days ago.
The guy and I happened to walk by the coffee shop the day she discovered the group. The guy, in an attempt to lose the weight he had recently gained from eating so many cow brains, decided that we should take a walk into town.
As we walked by the coffee shop, we saw the girl through the large storefront window, talking to a table of lady peanut heads. Even though they all held knitting needles in their stiff, waxy hands, they looked lost, like they didn't have a clue what to do. The girl went from knitter to knitter, explaining how to hold the needles in their hands, and that no, it was not okay to eat the yarn.
She came back home that day with a new sense of purpose; “empowerment knitting” is what she termed it.
She was certainly in a good mood when she left for her group this morning. “Make sure Bippy gets his lunch,” she called out cheerily, on her way out.
9:38 ante meridiem
We arrived to find Hilda cleaning the rugs with a large, wooden paddle. Even though a cloud of dust surrounded her, I was still able to make out the blank look in her eyes. I made sure to give her a wide berth since she was a large woman with a potential weapon in her hands. I also hated dirt.
Once inside we heard Peepaw cackle from his recliner, “Come on in, I'm over here.” I quickly made my way over. I had hoped that Peepaw had some instant coffee by his side and I was not disappointed. I crawled up in the recliner next to him and took a satisfying sip. He patted my belly in a respectful, thoughtful manner. Not at all like the guy, who was getting to be really annoying with the head tussles.
“Glad you all came by,” Peepaw said, “I'm getting tired of looking at that woman.”
“Hilda?”
“I know she's a far stretch for a woman, but yeah, her. She won't let me drink hot chocolate at night and she makes me take more than one bath a week.”
“But that's her job. She's supposed to keep you healthy and clean. You know too much hot chocolate isn't good for you. At your age, all that sugar might give you diabetes.”
“Humph! It’s not like I’m trying for another fifty years.”
“And taking frequent baths is good for your overall hygienic health. Don't you want to smell good?”
“Who cares what an old man smells like? Do you make a habit of going around and smelling old men? Besides, Hilda makes the bath water way too hot.”
Poor Peepaw, I thought, as I took another sip of his coffee. I was beginning to acquire a taste for instant.
Peepaw had a sour look, so the guy said, “I'll go upstairs and get a puzzle we can put together.”
“I don't want to play with a puzzle! I want hot chocolate!”
The guy stood, “How about I find us a puzzle to work on and then when I come down, I'll make you a mug of hot chocolate?”
The guy went upstairs and Peepaw whispered to me, “Don't grow old Bippy. It's much harder than it looks.”
I let Peepaw scratch between my shoulder blades. I thought it would make him feel better. It certainly did me; that spot is hard to reach.
He said, “Do you know what's wrong with this generation Bippy?” I shook my head. “They're doing things like playing with puzzles when they should be taking care of these peanut heads.” He gave me a bite of his strudel. “My generation, we would have taken care of these peanut heads a long time ago. None of this tolerance business.”
The guy came back down carrying a large box as well as a large book. Not another book! It's not like he doesn't have a whole houseful of them back in Chicago. Hopefully it's something more interesting than the one he's currently reading, The Psychological Self. The one in his hand looked old, almost vintage. It had a considerable amount of dust on it.
“Is this the old Question Book that you used to read to me when I would come to visit during the summer?”
Peepaw reached for it. “You found it! I haven't seen that for ages. Ever since that woman you hired to help me arrived. First thing she did when she saw it was take it upstairs and hide it away.” Peepaw blew the dust from off the cover. “I miss reading this old book. It's a good thing you found it. The way things are now a days, everyone should have a good mind to read it, including you. It gives you the right answers.” Peepaw paused before he added, “You just gotta ask the right questions.”
The guy cheerfully asked, “Ready for some puzzle fun?”
Peepaw opened the book, “Puzzle-shmuzzle. Not before I read a chapter.” He turned to the first page, “You can bring me that hot chocolate now though.”
3:27 post meridiem
Before we left, Peepaw held the book towards the guy and said, “You better take this with you. I have a feeling that you and that wife of yours need to read it once in a while.”
The guy protested but Peepaw protested even louder. “That Hilda will only put it back upstairs again. She can't stand that book. No peanut head can. It makes their ears leak.”
On the drive back, the guy made sure to keep the book safe and on occasion, would touch it, almost as if to remind himself that it was still there. Before we left, Peepaw whispered to me, “You got more sense than both of them Bippy. You make sure they read it.”
8:25 post meridiem
The guy opened up the book but it didn't make much sense to him. He showed the girl and she said, “Oh my, it's full of answers. I thought it was a question book.”
The guy shook his head. “The trick is that after you read the answer, you have to ask the right question.” He flipped through the pages. “It's almost like it's written in a foreign language, which is odd because I know that Peepaw doesn't speak anything but English.”
The girl teased him about Peepaw being more educated, which caused the guy's ego to flare up. He took the book up to the office with him and spent the evening looking through it.
Day 23: The Question Book
6:45 ante meridiem
After brushing my teeth, I spent a good part of the morning downstairs, trying to figure out the coffee machine, which was quite unlike our espresso machine at home. Drip Brew? I wasn't familiar with that setting. The one back in Chicago had many options: Espresso, Latte, Americana, Steam, Breve. This one had just one button. I hoped that Drip Brew was Minnesotan for Espresso. I watched the coffee drip into the carafe. Definitely not espresso.
It was early but the phone rang. The guy and girl were still sound asleep, so I answered it.
“Bippy? Is that you?” I recognized Peepaw's voice and imagined his pickly smell.
I barked back.
“Bippy, did they read the book? You make sure they read the book okay, boy?”
I barked again.
We talked like this for a few minutes more and then I had to quickly excuse myself since the coffee was overflowing the carafe. I guess I misjudged the proper amount of water.
I heard the guy's footsteps coming down the wood stairs so I ran over by my playpen and feigned looking at a Jody, who was still asleep under my blanket.
“What the...!!!” The guy ran over to the coffee pot and shut it off. He reached for some paper towels and proceeded to clean up the mess. He was almost done when the phone started beeping, alerting him that it was off the hook. Drat! I guess I didn't get it all the way on to the receiver.
He put the phone back on the hook and asked himself, “I wonder how this all happened?” He looked over at me and stared. I began to groom to get the attention off myself. He l
aughed, “It's not like you could've done all this, could you Bippy?”
I was beyond insulted. If I wasn't such a gentleman, I would have revealed to him right then and there, that it was I who edited all his research papers late at night, long after he went to bed. He actually thinks that drivel he writes is good enough to get published! “It's not like you could've done it, could you Bippy?” Indeed!!!
7:00 ante meridiem
I left the guy downstairs to finish cleaning up and went into his office and grabbed the book off his desk. I made sure to carefully carry the old book and place it on the bed, next to the girl, who was still sound asleep.
I whined a little, enough to wake the girl up. She pushed the hair out of her eyes. “What is it Bippy?” Looking over, she saw the book. “Ooh, how cute. He must have fallen asleep reading.”
I left the girl, who was now looking through the book, and headed back downstairs. Peepaw would be proud.
1:15 post meridiem
The guy was in his office typing away on his computer and I was nearly asleep on my bed when the girl came up from the living room and asked, “Why does that mailman always leave our mail on the ground?” She was holding the Question Book in her hand.
The guy looked up from his typing and I opened one eye. “How's that?” he asked.
“Why is it that the mailman is always leaving our mail on the ground instead of putting it in the mailbox?”
“I don't know. He’s been doing it ever since we got here. Why is it a problem now?”
“I don’t know, it just seems strange to me. You're from around here. Is it some sort of Minnesota cultural thing?”
The guy shook his head, “I don't remember it from growing up, but it might be. I haven't been back for some time now. Things could have changed.”