While I live with a cat, the dogs I know best are neighborhood rescues. There is Bowie, a mysterious mix of many breeds, saved from the local pound as a puppy. Now an adult dog, he is overjoyed to meet anyone, and his enthusiasm is infectious. Bowie makes others smile, so I think of him as an anti-depressant on four paws.
Then there is Florida, a severely abused dog who was so traumatized that he initially shook uncontrollably whenever we met. Time, reinforcement, and lots of patience have completely transformed him into an outgoing canine who loves car rides and socializing. Now, when we meet, he greets me, demands attention and petting, and will jump into my lap to get more cuddles.
Finally, there is Mabel. She spent her early life locked in a cage, forced to breed puppies for a puppy mill. When she first moved in with her rescuer, she did not recognize a house. Now when I meet her on walks, she greets me effusively and is thrilled to be petted. I cannot help but think how this poor animal, who only knew cruelty, still has the ability to think well of the people she meets.
All three had traumatic starts in life but transformed into well-adjusted pets. I wonder how they maintained their faith in humans, despite past abuse and trauma, so that they could embrace their new lives with such gusto.
I'm Frances Jaeger, and that is my Perspective.
