![\"Goya's](\"https:\/\/marksaywriter.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/07\/Goyas-Dog.jpg\")
<\/a>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cAre you sure about this?\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cDon\u2019t worry. You know how he loves something spooky.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then I noticed that his eyes had set on one of the pictures, The Witches Sabbath,<\/em> a collection of grotesque human faces gathered around the dark outline of a large crouching goat. He approached it with a big smile on his face.<\/p>\n \u201cCreepies!\u201d<\/p>\n I looked at Bridget and smiled.<\/p>\n \u201cI told you. Goya\u2019s brilliant for kids who love monsters.\u201d<\/p>\n Ethan pointed up at the painting.<\/p>\n \u201cThey\u2019re all ugly!\u201d<\/p>\n A middle aged man in a suit stood in front of the adjacent painting. He looked down at Ethan and raised an eyebrow.<\/p>\n \u201cYour son?\u201d He had a Spanish accent.<\/p>\n I nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cHow old is he?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFive.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe has good taste for a very young man.\u201d<\/p>\n We smiled at each other and I nudged Bridget with my elbow. Ethan looked around the room and scurried to another painting, Saturn<\/em>. I had guessed it was the one he would really like, a long haired ogre feeding on a naked, dismembered corpse. A couple of young women noticed him, their faces falling into mild shock. I stepped towards them.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s okay,\u201d I said. \u201cHe likes monsters.\u201d<\/p>\n Bridget wasn\u2019t going to complain, but I could see that she didn\u2019t share my sense of fun at Ethan\u2019s reaction. I stood behind Ethan and placed a hand on his shoulder.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy do you think he\u2019s eating the man?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBecause he\u2019s a big monster who eats people.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDo you think he should have some chips with that?\u201d<\/p>\n He laughed out loud. I heard a whisper and noticed Bridget showing an apologetic face to the young women. I wished she wasn\u2019t so sensitive, and let my attention wander around the room. It was the third time I had seen the paintings in fifteen years, plus countless leafings through the book on Goya that I had at home, and I still got a big kick out of the old master\u2019s plunge into the dark reaches of the human heart. I believe we should acknowledge a dark side to ourselves, and if we can visualise or put it into words it\u2019s easier to control; and enjoy. I was glad that my son was developing the same appreciation.<\/p>\n Bridget stood in the centre of the room, more detached than when I had brought her seven years before, as if she was unsure about whether Ethan should be enjoying the experience. I caught the eye of the Spanish man again, and he turned towards me as if intending to speak. I was ready to respond, but then I heard a wail from behind. I looked around to see that Ethan had moved on to another picture, The Dog<\/em>, and that his face had contorted.<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t like it!\u201d<\/p>\n I looked at the picture. It wasn\u2019t as obviously scary as most of the others, a dog\u2019s head rising above a dark curve, looking up at something that wasn\u2019t revealed.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s happening to the dog?\u201d<\/p>\n My first reaction was an honest answer.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d I moved towards him and touched his shoulder. \u201cWhat\u2019s wrong?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSomething bad!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, I know, but \u2026..\u201d<\/p>\n I couldn\u2019t think of a credible \u201cbut\u201d. It was true that the picture was vague \u2013 it was unclear where the dog was, a mystery what it was looking at \u2013 but it conveyed the animal\u2019s despair. There was fear and a terrible sense of isolation in its eyes. The dog was heartbroken.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy\u2019s that there?\u201d asked Ethan.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, it\u2019s one of the same group of paintings. They found them together in Goya\u2019s house.\u201d<\/p>\n A hand grabbed my arm and Bridget and hissed in my ear.<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019re leaving !\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNow!\u201d<\/p>\n She slid next to Ethan, pressed his head to her waist and turned him away. I noticed there was a tear in his eye. Bridget led him quickly out of the room. I followed at half pace, caught the eyes of the Spanish man, who gave a sympathetic shrug, and the two young women, who scowled.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Days later, back in his own bed, the tear was still in Ethan\u2019s eye. He couldn\u2019t get over the dog, and came into our bedroom at 3.00 am to share his distress.<\/p>\n \u201cSomething bad\u2019s happening to the dog.\u201d<\/p>\n Bridget reacted more quickly. In a few seconds she was out of bed, hugging him and speaking softly.<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t worry darling. The dog\u2019s okay. Everything\u2019s alright.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut the dog\u2019s scared.\u201d<\/p>\n She hugged him for a while then led him out of the room. It was becoming a routine; she would climb onto his bed and cuddle until he fell asleep. I would lie awake, feeling the rebuke. This time it was thirty minutes, maybe forty, before she came back to our bed. I asked the usual question: \u201cIs he asleep?\u201d She answered in the usual censorious tone: \u201cThat\u2019s why I\u2019ve come back to bed.\u201d Ten minutes later we were still awake. Bridget snapped: \u201cNo more fucking monsters!\u201d<\/p>\n An explanation came to me.<\/p>\n \u201cI think what\u2019s upset him is that it wasn\u2019t a monster.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe can handle monsters because he\u2019s already sussed that they\u2019re not real. But that dog is real in his mind. Goya painted an ordinary dog, looking lost and very scared, and Ethan knows it\u2019s more real than what was in all the other pictures. That\u2019s why it\u2019s stuck in his mind.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo you\u2019ve worked out it now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou know I would never have taken him into that room if I thought this could happen.\u201d<\/p>\n She didn\u2019t answer. I guessed that she knew it made sense, but she wasn\u2019t in the mood to give me credit for getting something right.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The bad nights continued, and there were even times during the day when Ethan suddenly resumed his fretting over the dog. It wasn\u2019t relentless, and for most of the time he was content with his toys or the TV, but every day there was a spell when his mood changed. At least during the day Bridget was more even tempered, ready to talk about what we could do. We tried explaining that it was only a painting, that the dog was only make believe. But he knew that some people did bad things to animals, and in his mind that made it all real. I made up a story about Goya having a dog that he always treated as his best friend, but it did no good. We even said that maybe we could get a dog, but it upset him even more. Bridget became more anxious than angry, and floated an idea that I didn\u2019t want to consider.<\/p>\n \u201cMaybe he should see someone? A professional.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou mean a shrink?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t use that word! There are counsellors who specialise in children\u2019s problems.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s for kids with serious problems. He\u2019s just been shaken up by seeing a picture.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThis has gone on for weeks. He\u2019s had a personality change.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019ll get over it!\u201d<\/p>\n Now I was irritated. Bridget didn\u2019t push it, but I had an unpleasant feeling that she was right.<\/p>\n Another bad night followed, this time with a twenty minute flood of tears. Neither of us got back to sleep. As we ate breakfast, stoking up for the day on black coffee, I gave in.<\/p>\n \u201cYou were right. We ought to have a look on the internet, find somewhere to take him.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThanks.\u201d<\/p>\n I was grateful that she was more concerned with putting things right than blaming me again.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Both of us were ready to accompany Ethan to the first session. It\u2019s a trauma even to acknowledge that your kid needs that kind of help, and we had to share it as a family. The counsellor worked from an office a mile or so from our place, and we agreed to make a little outing of it with a walk through the park. I sensed that Bridget still blamed me for the mess but she had dropped the rebukes, and as we set out I knew that she was concerned only with helping our son.<\/p>\n The weather had turned too cold for the park to be busy, but there were a few people wrapped up in gloves and scarves, joggers, and a couple of dogs trotting around close to their owners. I tried pointing to the dogs, telling Ethan that they looked happy, but he didn\u2019t respond. He hadn\u2019t all the previous times I had tried the same move. We walked at a gentle pace, Bridget and I reassuring Ethan that he was going to see a nice lady for a little talk, and feeling grateful that he was too young to understand the pain it was causing us. He pointed out that the trees had lost most of their leaves and told us it was because of autumn. We encouraged him to point out other things, tell us if it had anything to do with what he had learned at school. He looked towards the pond, pointed at a group of ducks, and told us where the name came from.<\/p>\n \u201cThere was an old word like duck that meant \u2018dive\u2019. Ducks dive to get their food from the water.\u201d<\/p>\n Bridget and I looked at each other, impressed.<\/p>\n \u201cI didn\u2019t know that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cVery good.\u201d<\/p>\n Then a dog shot across our path, a small cross-breed barking as it charged towards the pond. A voice shouted \u201cCharlie!\u201d and I saw a woman walking towards us with the type of frown that dog owners put on when the animal misbehaves. It prompted us to look where the dog had run and see that it charged through a pack of birds towards a tree. The birds flapped and made various noises, and a small grey shape scuttled up to a high branch. I realised that the dog had given chase to a squirrel, and looked to see the woman cross our path. She had an exasperated smile, but the moment she was in front of me it turned to shock.<\/p>\n \u201cOh shit!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI looked towards the pond and saw that a couple of large geese had advanced on the dog and cornered by the tree. They raised their wings, hissed loudly and jabbed their beaks towards the dog\u2019s face. It barked once but then shrank backwards. It was thirty yards away but we could see its fear.<\/p>\n \u201cOh God!\u201d the woman said.<\/p>\n \u201cThey\u2019ll back off,\u201d I told her. \u201cJust run over and wave your arms at them.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI can\u2019t. I\u2019m scared of geese. There\u2019s something about them. I can\u2019t go close.\u201d<\/p>\n I looked to the tree again. The two geese were padding around the dog, hissing and pecking as if they meant it harm. Ethan had noticed as well.<\/p>\n \u201cDaddy!\u201d<\/p>\n I looked again at the dog\u2019s owner. She had moved forward a few steps but slowly, clearly scared of the scene ahead. Bridget jogged my arm.<\/p>\n \u201cI think it\u2019s up to you.\u201d<\/p>\n I walked towards the pond. I could see that beyond the tree two boys in their early teens were watching, intrigued by the spectacle. Then I heard a yelp, and saw that one of the geese was pecking at the dog\u2019s neck. I remembered what vicious buggers they could be, but reckoned that my size was going to settle it quickly. I quickened my stride, waved both arms and shouted.<\/p>\n \u201cGet out of it! Get away!\u201d<\/p>\n The geese ignored me. Now both were pecking at the dog. It yelped, tried to dart away, but was blocked by the first goose swiftly curling its neck. The dog backed into the tree and let out a pathetic yowl. I moved closer, to within a couple of steps of the geese, and shouted again. This time the one that had led the attack turned, drew back its head, eyed me up and lashed out. I felt its beak touch my thigh and jumped back. This one was dangerous. I went back a couple of steps, thinking the dog would take the opportunity to run, but now it was frozen at the base of the tree. I waved my arms and shouted again. The goose took another couple of steps forward and tried to peck at me again.<\/p>\n \u201cBastard!\u201d I didn\u2019t realise that one could be this brave in the face of a human. That dog had got them seriously riled. I wanted to back away, but the second goose was still close to the tree and the dog was still too scared to move. I was beginning to share a little of its fear.<\/p>\n \u201cGet away! Get away!\u201d<\/p>\n The goose stood its ground, still hissing and threatening a further peck. I looked at the thickness of its beak and knew that I didn\u2019t want to feel that on any uncovered flesh, or anywhere near my groin. There were anxious voices in the background, and I\u2019m sure that one was crying \u201cDaddy!\u201d I tried to step forward, an effort to push the goose back again. It moved side to its side but kept up the hissing and gave no ground. I looked behind it and could see that the dog still hadn\u2019t moved. For a moment I thought of attacking the goose, grabbing its neck and risking whatever its wings or beak could do. Then a shape spun into sight and struck the goose\u2019s legs. It jumped, flapped its wings and let out a loud, abrasive sound like the scraping of rusty metal. I saw that the shape had been a tree branch, and noticed the two teenagers coming towards us. One waved another branch and threw it hard towards the geese. My immediate thought was \u201cShit! Don\u2019t make it worse!\u201d But as the branch landed between the birds they flapped, raised their legs and took off across the pond.<\/p>\n I took a breath, watched the geese fly away, and looked to the two boys. They were clearly pleased with themselves.<\/p>\n \u201cCan\u2019t do it unarmed mate,\u201d said one. \u201cYou need a weapon.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey\u2019re evil buggers,\u201d said the other.<\/p>\n \u201cIs the dog alright?\u201d<\/p>\n It was still by the tree but it stood upright, visibly relieved that the geese had fled. That was the moment when I saw the resemblance; it looked like Goya\u2019s dog, but with eyes that were now grateful rather than scared. A female voice shouted \u201cCharlie!\u201d It looked up and ran towards its owner. The boys came towards me. One of them had another stick in his hand. I had a feeling that they did this for sport, but I wasn\u2019t going to berate them.<\/p>\n \u201cI hate geese,\u201d said one. \u201cSnakes with wings.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf it happens again, grab a stick, or a rock,\u201d said the other.<\/p>\n \u201cThanks,\u201d I said. \u201cAnd I\u2019m sure the dog appreciates it.\u201d<\/p>\n We could see that it was now pressing itself against its owner, who was kneeling at its side and rubbing her hands around its neck. Bridget and Ethan were by her side, leaning over to pat the dog\u2019s back. We walked over to join them. The woman saw us coming and stood up.<\/p>\n \u201cThanks so much,\u201d she said to me. \u201cThat was very brave.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt was nothing.\u201d I wasn\u2019t going to admit that I had got a little scared. \u201cAnd it was the boys who made them go away. Effective use of tactical weapons.\u201d<\/p>\n She thanked them. They joined in making a fuss of the dog, and I noticed the woman pulling out her purse. They must have fancied their chances of a reward from the start. Bridget and Ethan moved away.<\/p>\n \u201cThat was brave,\u201d Bridget said.<\/p>\n \u201cIt was only a couple of geese.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve heard of them breaking people\u2019s arms.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd you didn\u2019t stop me. Thanks.\u201d<\/p>\n Ethan tugged at my trouser leg.<\/p>\n \u201cThe dog\u2019s alright!\u201d he said.<\/p>\n \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s better now!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBetter?\u201d<\/p>\n He wore a wide smile and his eyes had lit up. He hadn\u2019t looked so happy since \u2026. the moment before he had seen the painting of Goya\u2019s dog. I squeezed his hand, looked at Bridget and realised that she had also noticed.<\/p>\n \u201cDo you think \u2026.?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n \u201cI think we can cancel that appointment.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019ll have to pay the fee.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWho cares? We can spend longer in the park.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n