When Life Dictates

Three weeks ago, my dog was attacked and injured by another dog. It was the second time in less than eighteen months and it wasn't of our making; it wasn't negligence nor irresponsibility on my part nor on my husband's. And as I am writing, I find it interesting that this is the first thing that emerges; a testament to how much we can be plugged into some collective consciousness where we women have a default reaction embedded in us, that somehow we might be guilty and that we have to justify ourselves first before the rest of what we have to say can hold true. It's even more striking to me that, in actual fact, on both occasions I wasn't even present; my husband was. Both times I received a panicked phone call to which my automatic mode instantly turned itself on without me even realising: How bad is it? Is it life-threatening? Let's call the vet and let her know we're rushing him there now. I am the kind of person who doesn't lose her bearing when the shit hits the fan; it's the aftermath and the processing of the event that is always much trickier and probably why I am a good therapist. I understand full well that it helps to be helped when processing difficult situations or events.

I know people with kids and no pets hate the comparison, and people with pets and with or without kids understand it without needing explanation, but my dog is my baby and, truly, he is like a child. A child who'll never grow up. He'll grow old (I hope), but his maturity is already at his adult stage and he'll remain like a toddler (a smart and loving one) mind you, for the rest of his life. So needless to say, when your baby is attacked and hurt by another, it's no less distressing than if he was human. You'll do whatever you can to give him the best possible care and do everything to help him recover as fast and well as possible.

Now, you know how parents love to think their kids are different somehow, more special than the other kids, just because they're their kids. And all you want to say to their face is that, "no", they aren't. Well, my dog is one of these 'special kids' and trust me, I wish he wasn't. He has existing health conditions and sensitivities which render his healing process neither straightforward, nor the way it's supposed to be with a 'normal' dog, nor quick at all. Basically, it's complicated and convoluted for him, for us, for his vet team — which, thankfully, adores him, cares deeply and takes that into consideration. But in a nutshell, the moment he was hurt, with an open wound, we knew we had a ride ahead of us. One we obviously had not wished for.

That's the thing with life. There is what we want, such as a happy and healthy dog who's never going to be hurt by anything or anyone, and then there is life. And life dictates. All we can do is respond the best we can. So to the question, what is life asking of me now? From moment to moment, we all have the answer. It just might not be the one we wanted.

So whilst I am going back and forth to the vet multiple times a week, to the tune of 3-hour round trips because of traffic, cleaning wounds twice a day, fine-tuning my techniques to give meds and supplements, dealing with the cone and what not, I was also finalising my now-completed diploma in logotherapy and existential analysis which, in the midst of all this, I admittedly had a hard time finding the heart to celebrate. But amongst all the essays I had to write, there was a small and valuable exercise worded this way: Write down ten of the most positive things that have come from a recent painful experience. Though it's an unfolding process as my dog hasn't fully recovered yet, I'll share with you what came out of this reflective invitation because I not only found it valuable, I ended up going back to it a few times, as if its effect extended beyond its apparent expected reach. I'd say that by far and overall, I felt an unforeseen sense of gratitude and appreciation.

1. Being fortunate and grateful to have a wonderful vet and her team who are caring, competent, patient, generous and kind, and it makes a world of difference.

2. Gratitude for being in a position where we can financially afford to pay for all the necessary care needed for our dog to heal and make a full recovery.

3. Gratitude for the owner of the other dog who seems honest and who verbally agreed to reimburse the vet fees.

4. Gratitude for technology and innovation, such as laser treatment being available to help fast-track the cellular healing process of the skin.

5. Gratitude for working from home and being able to care for my dog 24 hours a day and not leave him alone.

6. Gratitude for my "healer" friends who stepped in and volunteered to give remote healing and energetic support to my dog.

7. Learning new things. Dogs' healing processes are very different to humans on an anatomical level and I am learning to provide better care (e.g. how to clean the wounds appropriately, the skin, etc.).

8. Resilience. As explained, due to pre-existing health conditions, my dog heals at a slower pace than other dogs (we knew this from the previous attack), and it takes patience from all of us regarding a process which can't be forced in any way.

9. Adaptability. With a dog who is super sensitive and doesn't respond to treatments the way other dogs do, it's a lot of trial and error and sometimes what we think is best isn't right. It takes humility and constant readjustment.

10. Resourcefulness. Needing to come up with some ideas and solutions to deal with unexpected situations such as: a different cone that doesn't hurt his neck, swapping water bowls because suddenly he doesn't want his usual one, putting water in his kibble because he isn't drinking enough, then a special pair of pyjamas because even the "soft cone" ends up irritating his skin, etc.

11. Expertise. The first week following the attack, he was in shock and in a complete trauma loop, with lots of trembling and being glued to us. His distress was heartbreaking. We called our dog trainer in Australia, who had known him since he was a puppy and who is a canine rehabilitation expert. He had extremely good insights and suggestions.

12. Managing stress more effectively. My own stress and anxiety about the situation were affecting my dog and could potentially slow down his healing process even more. Even the vet gave me a nudge. So for his sake, I doubled down on my own work with my therapist to bring myself back on track and make sure I dealt with my side of the trauma so that it didn't add to his.

Truthfully, I wasn't going to write about this. In fact, at first, I didn't even tell my own family about what had happened. I was too upset. But earlier today, I sat down on my carpet with a notebook to scribble some ideas about this month's article and my dog gently landed his 32kg on my lap, found a comfy position and fell asleep. I felt submerged by love and gratitude. He is a loving boxer boy but he isn't a cuddler by nature, at least not the way I am. But since the accident, this has completely shifted and sometimes he sleeps for hours on my lap on the sofa while I am working on my computer. Before, if he had stayed five minutes, this would have been a win. Our relationship is transformed; our bond is stronger than it has ever been. And for that too, I say thank you.

So whatever life may have been dictating to you lately that may be very far from something you want, I hope you'll be able, in hindsight and at the right time, to find something positive behind and through it all. A little gem for you beyond the difficulty of the moment.

Main – Photo by Michael Cheval