Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Foley Monster goes to a therapist about her anger issues

At the insistence of Zoe Boe, Foley Monster has agreed to enter anger management. Let’s drop in on a session.

Foley Monster comes into the room, wearing her new Tanner Brigade bandanna, and jumps on the couch. Doctor Phred, who is working with Foley on her anger issues clears his throat.

Foley growls and jumps down.

“What did I tell you about the couch Foley?” Dr. Phred asks. “That is my couch, I have control over it and you can’t get on the couch until I give you permission because you are a dog, I am a human, and I am the pack leader.”

Foley sighed and repeated to herself: “Accept others and have patience, accept others and have patience, accept that this guy has an extraordinary connection to his couch and be patient for the lightning strike that will leave him nothing but a cinder under my paw.”

“Now Foley,” Dr. Phred said. “Do you accept that this is my couch?”

“Yes Doctor,” Foley answered.

“And how does that make you feel?”

Foley looked at him, opened her mouth, and began to pant. It gave the appearance that she was happily smiling. Actually, she was just cooling off her steaming, angry, little body. “That’s a good girl,” he said and patted the couch for her to jump on it. She almost missed the signal, imagining Dr. Phred on a spigot, covered with barbeque sauce, slowly being turned as the rest of the brigade drooled and hoped for a drumstick.

“Now Foley how have you been doing with your anger since we last spoke?”

“Very well,” Foley said confidently.

“Are you still attacking Pocket for no reason?”

“Of course not, I would never attack my sister for no reason.”

“So you haven’t attacked Pocket?”

“Oh sure, like the other day, we were out of Tasty Chews, so I nipped her. And later that night she was sleeping, so I bit her ear, all with good reason.”

“Foley, those aren’t good reasons. You are letting anger build up in you and then attacking your sister as a release for that anger.”

“Or,” Foley contradicted, “she could be an annoying little pissy pants.”
“Are you angry at Pocket’s trouble with housebreaking because as a puppy you had trouble with housebreaking?”

“Oh please,” Foley scoffed. “I was the only one in the litter who didn’t pee the womb. I have always had excellent control.”

“Ah!” Doctor Phred said. “You can control your peeing but not your temper! Now does this have anything to do with issues with your birth mother? Was there enough room at the teet?”

“The what?”

“The teet.”

“The toot?”

“The teet. To drink your mother’s milk.”

Foley was horrified. “How can you say that about my Mom? What’s wrong with you? I don’t go around talking about your brothers and sisters sucking your Mom’s toots.”

“Teets!”

“Whatever!” Foley looked around the room. “Do you have any actual medical training?”

The Doctor, annoyed, pressed on in pursuit of his teet answer. “Yes, there were three of us in the litter and six teets,” Foley finally said. “There was plenty of room, we could spread out, I used to bring a magazine, we rented her out for birthday parties.”

“Well, if that it isn’t mother or potty issues then we’ll move on to something more advanced. I am going to show you a series of images and you tell me what it looks like to you.” He held up the first ink blot image.

“That’s what Pocket did on the rug yesterday.” He held up a second. “That’s what Pocket did on the rug today.” He held up a third. “And that’s a dirty, dirty picture you sicko.”

“You seem to be obsessed with Pocket peed on this, Pocket peed on that, are you afraid Pocket is taking attention away from you?”

“First of all, no one is taking attention away from me, second of all, Pocket did pee on that I can smell it.”

Dr Phred looked at the image. “You’re right, I dropped it in the waiting room she came over and peed on it. Very fast pee-er that one.” Foley and Doctor Phred finally agreed on something.

“Well, if it isn’t Mother issues, or perception issues, or jealousy issues, there is only one other thing that could be causing these attitude problems.”

“Yes, fireworks, I have been saying that all along. Now can I go home?

“Fireworks get you upset do they?”

“Yes!”

“Because they’re hot?”

“Hot? Well I never really thought of that. I guess so. I don’t like hot things.”

“And you were panting earlier, you do that when you’re hot too don’t you.”

“Yes. There’s nothing worse than a sweaty pooch.”

Hmm. Doctor Phred rubbed his chin in deep thought. “And those firework, they flash in the sky don’t they?”

“Well some do, I guess,”

The Doctor sat back.

“You recently celebrated a birthday is that right?”

“Yes, I turned nine.”

“Nine,” he said rubbing his chin. “Nine. You know Foley women of a certain age, their bodies begin to change.”

Foley sat upright. “What’cha talkin’ about certain age?” she asked.

“And when they change they are often susceptible to hot flashes like the fire works that bother you so much.”

“Oh you are so not going there Sister Disco.”

“Have you had problems with your bladder?”

“Tastes the same.”

“Any problems sleeping?”

“I get restless during my 22nd hour of sleep.”

“Does your mood change suddenly?”

“I couldn’t find my squeaky squirrel this morning, I’m so sad!”

“Do you have headaches?”

“Right now yes.”

“Memory problems?”

“Who are you, what are you doing in my house, what have you done to the window treatments?”

“Foley, you are going through menopause which is why you have anger issues,” Doctor Phred proclaimed.

“And here I am fresh out of ovaries.”

“You know, it is very interesting that most of the women I diagnose with anger issues are suffering from menopause. I think it really takes a man to diagnose these things.”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure it does,” Foley said. She got down and went to the door. “And the good news is that there are so many more of us,” she said opening the door. “Here are some more of my angry menopausal friends: This is Daisy Mae, and Sandy, and Mollie, and Hattie Mae, and Saffron, and Zoe Boe, and Fay Fay, and Lily, and worst of all, Lord help you Pepsi.”

The female dogs had the Doctor in a corner and were growling at him and he yelled out for help as Foley got in the elevator preparing to go home and see if she could make dirty pictures out of Pocket’s pee stains in the rug.

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