‘Sylvia’ unleashes a funny, poignant midlife crisis

It should probably be stipulated at this point that nothing more physical than tummy-scratching, head-patting, and face-nuzzling occurs between Greg (David Adkins), a financial trader in the throes of a midlife crisis, and Sylvia (Rachel Bay Jones), a pooch of boundless enthusiasm whom he brings home one day from the park.

But from the start it’s clear that Greg adores Sylvia, and she adores him right back. Heck, today’s relationship experts might even go so far as to call it an emotional affair. Whatever category it belongs in, Greg’s wife, Kate (Jurian Hughes) sees the intimate bond between man and dog as a threat to their 22-year marriage.

(A decade ago, Edward Albee explored this territory in a much darker vein with a play whose titular animal shares the same name, “The Goat, or Who Is Sylvia?’’)

Now that their children are grown, the couple has moved into Manhattan, and Kate is building a career as a public school English teacher. The last thing she needs is a shaggy rival for her husband’s affections whose playful companionship accelerates his loss of interest in work, putting his job in jeopardy.

Yet how can Kate compete with Sylvia? Wearing a dopey, devoted grin, this part Lab, part poodle (or so she is described; Jones wears no dog costume) gazes worshipfully at Greg as if he possesses the secrets of the universe. It’s not long before she’s delivering the kind of flattery that few male egos could withstand. “I think you’re God, if you want to know,’’ Sylvia confides to Greg. At several points she gushes: “I love you.’’

Yes, the dog talks. Part of the charm of “Sylvia’’ is the matter-of-factness with which this facility is treated. In act two, Gurney’s play loses its balance a bit, wobbling on that fine line between whimsy and inanity during a needlessly protracted scene with a New Age-y marriage counselor played by Walter Hudson.