“How is that?” Dan said. He was unsure whether agreeing with Martin’s assessment might be a good thing. Surely feeling an emotion was better than observing it?
Thankfully, Martin was willing to enlighten him. “It’s a rational judgment you’re making about the situation. You’ve separated yourself from the emotion to view it with detachment. Whereas you might normally feel anger over a perceived injustice, you’ve distanced yourself. I think that’s good.”
Dan tried to look pleased.
“How are you feeling about life in general these days?” Martin said.
“Good. Fine. A little less irritable than usual.”
“Why is that?”
Dan reflected. “Bill and I are going away for the weekend. We’re going to a gay wedding.”
Dan had stopped hypothesizing on Martin’s sexuality and simply assumed he had none, though Martin always showed a keen interest in anything to do with Dan’s sex life. Sometimes Dan went on at length when Martin showed curiosity, feeding him tidbits of information to see how he would react, though he’d tired of the game quickly.
“This will be the first time we’ll be together for an entire weekend,” Dan continued.
“And you feel positive about this?”
“Yes,” Dan said, surprising himself.
“Is it a matter of feeling you have more control over the relationship?”
“Not really. Bill’s always been in control of the relationship — when we see each other, for how long, et cetera.”
Martin inclined his head. “I seem to recall you once said he was in control of every aspect of the relationship except for the bedroom….”
Dan leaned in. “Well, he calls the shots there too, more or less. What I meant was, he lets me be in control when we have sex.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“Obviously I’m willing to go along with it or I wouldn’t be with him.”
Martin waited.
Dan cleared his throat. “I’m learning to be patient,” he said.
“That’s good. Very good.” Martin nodded encouragingly, like a grade school teacher rewarding a student for a correct answer. “Have you had any difficult moments since you were here last?”
“Not really.”
“Not really or no?”
“No.”
Martin made a mark in his notebook. “Good,” he said. “No banging with your fists or yelling?”
Dan remembered the incident with the dog. It seemed funny in hindsight. Surely it was a sign he could laugh at himself. “I got a bit upset with the dog, but it was just the excitement. I didn’t mean to yell.”
Martin looked up from his notebook. “Isn’t that how you described the incident at work when you hit the filing cabinet? You said you yelled at your superior without meaning to.”
Dan shrugged. “Okay.”
“Would you say this is a common response you have in tense situations?”
“This wasn’t a tense situation. I was walking in my front door.”
Martin was rapt. “Tell me what happened. Does the dog have a name?”
Of course the fucking dog has a name, Dan thought. “It’s Ralph,” he said slowly.
“Ralph,” Martin repeated, making it sound like a foreign word. “Is Ralph a male? May I refer to Ralph as ‘he’?”
“Sure.”
Dan rubbed his temples. A nice fat glass of Scotch would drown out how much he detested sitting here with this emotionally repressed insect dissecting his every thought and word, as though using the wrong adjective to describe a reaction or labelling a dog by the incorrect gender might be a crime.
Martin pondered his words as Dan explained how he’d yelled at the dog.
“When you think about what Ralph did now, in this moment, how do you feel?”
“I don’t feel anything now. At the time I was pretty pissed off,” Dan said. “I’m sure he does it on purpose.”
Martin made an elaborate note in his book. He looked up. “Of course you realize a dog isn’t conscious of its actions the same way humans are?”
Dan shrugged. “Actually, I’m convinced he does it to annoy me. It’s a big ‘Fuck You’ when he does it at the front door. When it’s an accident, he tries to hide it in the basement.”
The pencil jogged around the page. Martin looked up. “Do you know that for a fact or do you just imagine you know what the dog’s motivations are?”
“He’s a smart dog and he’s been through obedience training. He knows what he’s doing.”
“Can we talk about how Ralph might feel in these circumstances?”
Martin looked over his shoulder as though conferring with the Mondrian. Maybe it talked to him, Dan thought. Maybe it prompted him on what train of thought to follow.
“How would I know what the dog feels? Do dogs even feel?”
Martin tented his fingers again and leaned back. “Try to imagine what it might be like for Ralph. You said he does it to annoy you. Why do you think that is? Was he feeling neglected? Had he been left alone without access to a place to defecate?”
Dan tried to imagine Martin bending and scooping up Ralph’s big turd with a teaspoon, balancing it as he made his way across the office to a wastebasket.
“My son said that even dogs need love.”
“Good!” Martin said decisively. “And do you agree?”
“He’s probably right.”
“So how did Ralph respond when he perceived himself to be neglected? When you didn’t give him the love and attention he wanted?”
“You just said dogs weren’t conscious in the way humans are. How could he ‘perceive’ anything?”
“Unconscious perception can be even stronger than conscious perception. If you believe the dog was ‘acting out,’ then clearly the dog perceives when it’s been neglected. Do you see?”
In Dan’s mind, he saw Martin’s hand tremble and drop the turd. It landed with a soft thud and rolled across the carpet, leaving a faint brown trail. “This is really stupid.”
Martin untented his fingers. “Is it stupid, Daniel — or do you perceive it
