INTERVIEW WITH A DOG III:
The Circle Widens
“Don’t make the mistake of treating dogs like humans, or they’ll treat you like a dog.”
-Martha Scott
To call my last session disturbing is an understatement. After constant interruptions, I was finally able to spend a delightful two hours with Socrates. Then, it happened. As I was leaving the facility, I was ushered into a room by two goons and ordered to strip- by a cold shower named Kathryn Hepburn, Jr. Things got so bad, it took a call to my benefactor to keep my briefs on. But despite this vile intrusion, I still thank the scientists for making hard drives so small.
After Socrates threatened another strike, I was allowed to interview three other dogs, the first non-scientist to do so. True to form, the ‘white coats’ tried to control everything: Socrates and the others had to be interviewed together; and they withheld the identities of the others. For my part, I was able to get Kansas City-style barbecue, candied sweets with marshmallows, collared greens, and corn bread for all fifty-seven dogs. Now, hopefully, they will align with Socrates and continue to fight for the respect they deserve as marvels of nature.
But one thing still disturbed me: to prevent Socrates from selecting his friends, the scientists insisted on choosing all his interview companions. After two rounds of contentious negotiations, they agreed on choosing two of the three dogs. While I understood their motive (an informant is always valuable), I knew that Socrates was better placed than I to know exactly what was happening. If only he knew how to use a cellphone.
But all that is moot, for as I entered what they called ‘the interview suite’, there were four well-fed dogs sitting before me on the other side of the glass. In fact, two were still trying to get the barbecue from between their teeth. But all I could think about was which one of them was working for the ‘white coats’.
Socrates: Everybody, this is my man. For security reasons, we won’t use his name.
(A white male toy poodle objected in a shockingly deep voice)
Toy Poodle: Why does he get to know our names and we can’t know his?
Socrates: Will you let me quarterback this thing? (to me) This is Ceasar. The German Shepherd is Jonesy. And the Doberman is Zenobia.
Me: Why are you the only one without a classical name?
(Jonesy bowed his head, almost crying, annoying the others).
Zenobia (biting): His former owner gave him that name.
Jonesy: You don’t understand… He was very important to me.
Caesar: Moving on, I wanted to thank you for that delicious meal. Not only did it taste good, it was like perfume for the ass.
(The other dogs barked in agreement).
Jonesy: How would you know? You can’t even reach my ass.
Me: Would you like this food on a regular basis?
Caesar: If it were up to me, hell yeah. But the others gotta vote. Even the stupid ones.
Zenobia: That’s why I don’t like voting. It’s based on a lie.
Jonesy: As if you don’t lie.
Zenobia: But I wouldn’t base a system on it. In order to offset the stupid voters (the ones who don’t read), the smart ones always have to find a way to rig the election.
Jonesy: Yeah, but some of the smart ones are stupid.
(The others howl in agreement).
Me (to Zenobia): Sounds like you’ve been reading H.L. Mencken.
Zenobia: I owe it all to Socrates. He gives me books.
Caesar: That’s not all he gives you.
(As the others barked, I wondered if Caesar’s the one trying to get my secret stash).
Socrates (to the others): Since our friend was kind enough to give us this marvelous food-
Jonesy (interrupting): I know, I know. We gotta give him something. Something juicy.
Zenobia: Not too juicy.
Jonesy: I was gonna tell him about the time I tried to fuck my owner’s daughter.
Caesar: No wonder you’re always crying.
Jonesy: They almost gave me away to a Welfare couple with three foster kids. (tearing up) But Mister Davenport gave me another chance.
Socrates: What I had in mind was something more elevated. To prove we’re not just hunters, fetchers and adorable shit-makers.
Caesar: Tell him about the toilets.
Me (surprised): You have toilets?
Socrates: They rise up from the ground. Very sanitary. But many of the dogs don’t use them, because we rely on scent. I don’t go anywhere my friends haven’t gone.
Zenobia: See how you humans fuck things up?
Jonesy (eyeing my computer): Speaking of which, what’s that you got there?
Me: It’s my laptop.
Jonesy: I mean, that thing sticking out of it.
Socrates: It’s a zip drive. You know that. (to me) They’re teaching us, well, some of us, how to use computers.
Me: I’ve done my research. You all are among the smartest breeds. What do the other dogs say?
Caesar (to me): We heard you had an incident the last time you were here.
(Socrates’ huge black eyes told me to chill).
Me (forcing a smile): It ended well, or we wouldn’t be talking.
(The green light on the far wall went red and the door opened. The clean-cut doctor wasn’t smiling this time).
Doctor: We have the results of your latest blood tests. Very concerning. Caesar, your pressure is very high. And Zenobia, you’ll have to come with us. (glaring at me) Your food proposal is being re-evaluated.
(The dog-side door opens and the nurse eyes Zenobia as if she were her daughter. But before leaving, the majestic Doberman stopped and looked at me).
Zenobia: I see what Socrates sees in you. You have my vote.
Me (touched): Thank you, Zenobia.
(Again, Socrates and I met eyes, for he was now surrounded by scientist plants).
Socrates (to me): Remember that barbershop quartet idea I was telling you about?
Me: Yes.
Caesar: What barbershop quartet? (to Jonesy) You know anything about a barbershop quartet?
Jonesy: (shaking his head): Never heard of it.
Socrates (to Caesar): I was gonna tell you. We want your voice. (to me) Anyway, they’re not gonna record us. They have an engineer who wants to try another way.
(As the others watched me, I tried to decipher his message without seeming to).
Me: Well, this is an opportunity to find the right singers.
(Without warning, in his rich baritone, Caesar burst into classic doo-wop. When Jonesy joined him, Socrates and I met eyes, bewildered but impressed. Not to be outdone, Socrates joined them).
Me: Excuse me, this is wonderful. But I don’t have a lot of time.
(As they quieted down, Caesar glared at me).
Me: If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk about your relationship with the less intelligent dogs.
Caesar (condescending): You mean the Beagles, the Bulldogs and the Basset Hounds?
Jonesy: And what about that stupid ass Pekingese? They lost her at ABC.
(As the dogs barked, the door opened and the first Black person I’ve seen here burst in, a brown, fleshy, stylish woman, early 40’s, with blindingly white teeth. She looked lost).
Black Woman: I’m sorry. This must be the wrong room.
(When she left, Socrates sang another a few notes, meeting my eye).
Me: Excuse me, but I have to use the toilet.
(As Caesar joined Socrates, followed by Jonesy, I went after her).
(In the empty hallway, I caught up to her as she was looking for another room).
Me: Excuse me.
Black Woman: Yes?
(For an instant, I had no idea what to say. Then I heard myself speak).
Me: Socrates sent me.
(We met eyes as two Scientists passed and nodded).
Black Administrator: I believe you’re looking for Room 222.
(My eye fell on a surveillance camera peeking out from a corner above and behind her right shoulder).
Me (smiling): Thank you.
(And looking as if I had to use the toilet, I went).