[NOTE: The story below was chosen as a winner in Word-wise's 2008 Short Writing Contest. Except for the right to publish it here as a winner, full rights and ownership of the story belong exclusively to Fiona Imlach. Contact her directly for permissions.]
Dr Lyons leaned forward in his leather chair to offer his latest client a tissue. Mrs Dalworthy, a grey haired lady wrapped in a soft cerise cardigan and floral dress, had begun to snivel.
'It's just that after all these years, now Frank doesn't show me any affection,' she quavered, tears pooling in the sagging lower rims of her eyelids. 'I come home from work and I'm tired and I just want to sit down for a few minutes but all he wants is food, food, food... I have no rest until I get him his dinner, but there's no gratitude, no appreciation. Once he's eaten, he's off without even a backward look... I don't know where he goes, to the neighbours, just out somewhere...'
'Do you suppose he has a lady friend?'
'Oh no,' she said with an embarrassed chuckle. 'You know, he's not able to do any of that any more.'
'But does he show you affection, when he's at home?'
'That's just it--he used to, but he's changed. That's why I'm here. I want to know if there's a reason why, if there's anything I've done, or if something's happened to him... see, he was affectionate, but now he just does his own thing and keeps to himself. It used to be that we'd always be together but now he doesn't even stay in the same room as me. He won't even sleep in my bed--he sleeps on the couch downstairs. He doesn't even seem to like me touching him, he practically runs away! We used to snuggle up in front of the TV every night, but now...' Her face wrinkled up and the tears spilled down her cheeks. She mopped them up fiercely with a tissue.
Dr Lyons made a sympathetic noise in his throat and looked grave. 'Now, this may be a difficult question for you to answer, but I am only trying to build up a picture of what's been happening, and I need you to be honest. Does Frank ever physically attack you?'
She stared at him with such a mournful expression he almost felt guilty for asking. 'He has always been so gentle and sweet tempered! It's only been the last few months his mood has changed so markedly, and yes, he has had a few goes at me. But it's so unpredictable. I'm never quite sure when he might lash out.'
'Well, Mrs Dalworthy, what you've described is not an uncommon problem, I'm afraid. It might be due to a number of causes. I have to ask, have you thought about the obvious solution perhaps... trading him in?'
'Oh, I couldn't do that!' She looked aghast. 'We've been together so long, it's been 17 years this November! Oh no... And who else would take him on with all his quirks and oddities, at his age...'
'What about getting yourself a younger version, perhaps?'
'No, no, that would just kill him, he couldn't cope with that! Oh, I can just imagine, what a terrible fuss he would make if I tried... No, there has to be something else I can do.'
'I'm sure there is, and next visit, it would be best if you could bring Frank along and I can check him over and perhaps arrange some tests. It would also be instructive to observe how you interact together, and how he treats you.'
She sniffed a little and nodded agreement.
Dr Lyons smiled gently at his distressed client. 'Mrs Dalworthy, you are a very kind-hearted and loving woman, aren't you.'
She stared at him, startled. 'Well, I love my Frank, yes.'
'I have to remind you that in any relationship there are two parties, and that you seem to be getting very little joy or satisfaction from your relationship from Frank as it currently stands.'
'No, that's not true...' But she trailed off and fell silent.
'Mrs Dalworthy, your feelings are being hurt, and I must say that your feelings in this situation are of the paramount importance. I want you to think about what it is that you want out of this relationship for our next meeting. I need you to reflect on this very carefully--because you have to remember, Mrs Dalworthy, that you are a fully rational and sensitive human being, and Frank, however much you might like to believe he is a person equal to yourself, is in fact, only a cat.'
She opened her mouth as if she would like to argue, but a look of weariness crossed her face and she merely shook her head.
Dr Lyons continued. 'I have a small brochure here I would like you to take away and read. It talks about feline dementia, which is a possible diagnosis in Frank's case. I'd like to discuss this more with you next time when I see you both.'
She took the brochure with interest and trepidation, nodded, and got up to leave. 'Thank you, Doctor, I'll do that.' Reaching the door, she turned back to ask, 'I have a friend at work who is having the most awful time with her bichon--she recently had a baby and the dog is so jealous she is afraid to leave them in the same room together! Do you deal with that kind of...canine neurosis?'
'I consult on any sort of human-animal conflict,' Dr Lyons pronounced, presenting her one of his cards, embossed around the edges with tiny gilt paw prints:
© 2008 by Fiona Imlach