Welcoming a canine companion does wonders for everyone
Recently I was talking with friends about the Chattanooga Market, and one of the memorable days I had there. It was animal adoption day, or, Bring Your Enormous Horse of a Dog to Market Day.
The spotlight was on McKamey’s Adoption Center (McKameyAnimalCenter.org). Lots of pups were around, enjoying being out and about with their humans, taking in all the sights, sounds, and delicious smells.
I have to tell you—I love the Market. Striking up conversations with artists, farmers, and merchants. And supporting, as many do here in town, all things local—from art to veggies.
As I strolled, trying not to eat all the peanut brittle samples, I’d sometimes feel a gentle brush across my thigh—the tail of one of the many canines accompanying their humans through the market. I didn’t bring Lily Pad—herself a rescue pup—as it’d be a bit overwhelming for my little gal who’s not too good yet in crowds. (She’s more the intimate dinner party type.)
Well, that and the fact that she’d undoubtedly be zipping to and fro, wide-eyed with excitement, and someone—likely me—would end up in a tangled heap.
That day stirred thoughts about the many ways we abandon and rescue not only our pets—but ourselves.
I often say that when it comes to our needs and wants, we have but two options: to honor them, or to abandon them. There are countless ways we abandon ourselves on a daily basis, ways both big and small, leaving us confused and stranded by the side of our psychic roads, replaying an unconscious echo of youthful experiences of abandonment by our parents or care-takers, and later exacerbated by the adult experiences of loss, illness, painful relationships, etc.
Then there are the ways we rescue ourselves, ways both healthy and less healthy. We may not yet have learned the coping tools to do so in positive ways, and perhaps struggle with unhealthy rescue attempts. Attempts that leave us feeling anxious and depressed, actually adding to the problem.
But we can learn to rescue—or honor—ourselves in healthier ways, ways that teach us to return to our best, balanced selves. Psychotherapy, meditation, conversations with loved ones, ponderings, living as mindfully and consciously as possible, are but a few ways to learn to come back to center, back home again.
And sometimes, along the way, we can look for unconditional, non-judgmental help from man’s/woman’s best friend.
So while we often think that we rescue the animals, I have to wonder, when it comes to our pets, who’s really rescuing whom?
I want to share with you a sweet story sent to me from a reader, Scott, who rescued a dog after an earlier one died tragically. He said his new rescue brought him and his partner closer together. I can understand that; certainly, The Lily is a regular source of goofy and unconditional comfort in my life. Here’s the story. (Thanks, Scott.)
I rescued a human today.
Her eyes met mine as she walked down the corridor peering apprehensively into the kennels. I felt her need instantly and knew I had to help her. I wagged my tail, not too exuberantly, so she wouldn’t be afraid. As she stopped at my kennel I blocked her view from a little accident I had in the back of my cage. I didn’t want her to know that I hadn’t been walked today. Sometimes the shelter keepers get too busy and I didn’t want her to think poorly of them.
As she read my kennel card I hoped that she wouldn’t feel sad about my past. I only have the future to look forward to and want to make a difference in someone’s life. She got down on her knees and made little kissy sounds at me. I pushed my head up against the bars to comfort her. Gentle fingertips caressed my neck; she was desperate for companionship. A tear fell down her cheek and I raised my paw to assure her that all would be well.
Soon my kennel door opened and her smile was so bright that I instantly jumped into her arms. I would promise to keep her safe. I would promise to always be by her side. I would promise to do everything I could to see that radiant smile and sparkle in her eyes. I am so fortunate that she came down my corridor. So many more are out there who haven’t walked the corridors. So many more to be saved. At least I could save one.
I rescued a human today.
Until next time: “I’m in a really good place right now. Not emotionally or spiritually. Just on the couch with my dog.” — adogslove.com
Rick Pimental-Habib, Ph.D., is a psychotherapist, author, minister, and educator in private practice in Chattanooga. Contact him at DrRPH.com, visit his wellness center at WellNestChattanooga.com