For The Ones Who Rescue
Someone almost wrecked into my ‘02 Buick Century the day I brought home my first rescue. It was 2016, and I was on the cusp of breaking into my 20s. I was late for a 7 am shift when a silver car sped into my lane on N Rutherford Blvd. Thankfully the passing lane was open when I swerved to avoid the collision. I was lucky that morning, but rescuing Chase was more important. That’s life at 19, isn’t it? Everything’s in the moment and no further. A cold morning in November was halted by a late July sun. Minus the hair frizz, the milestone felt endearing to me. Everyone talks about the dog you have in your 20s changing your life, so it felt like I had control of mine that day.
The first week was fewer roses and daisies and more like grocery bags and Lysol. I never knew dogs could be scared of door frames, but mine had to be carried outside during his first week with me. Some wondered if he was afraid the day we met, but it was an ordinary encounter with what I presumed was a typical dog. His rescue attributed this to having littermates making the greeting experience less intimidating. Chase’s original owners abandoned him in a trash bag. He was neutered at eight weeks old, causing his demeanor to be overly submissive. Rescues must do their part to lower euthanasia rates in shelters, but age did factor into his behavior according to his vet. Most people understood his anxiety, but coping with the unkindness shown after he opted to reject strangers or friends eventually became unfortunate.
Our breakthrough happened the morning I dropped his leash in my driveway. The slap on the gravel shocked him bad enough that he jolted, causing his leash to follow behind him full tilt towards the street. Fear entered his eyes and moved into his entire body. My instincts kicked in, and I fell to the cold gravel whispering in the sheepiest baby voice imaginable, “It’s alright, buddy. Come here.” He inconceivably walked back towards me, sat on my lap, and rested his head on my shoulder. The dog who preferred no one just chose me.
The misconceptions of his nature provoked a new passion in my heart. As time ages, the more comfortable he becomes. A few years later, I began understanding what it was like to coexist with fear. PTSD steals what is meant to be enjoyed. The energy I’d once given to living freely became spent on surviving the life I was given. After my diagnosis, I needed someone who understood my fearfulness without forcing me to face it. Only we can decide when we are ready to be courageous. It takes tenacity to overcome your fears, but the same bravery is often forgotten when it’s used to declare your space from the environments that harmed you. Side note, don’t let anyone encourage you to heal in the same place that took your spirit. When Chase almost ran away from me in the driveway, he returned without force. I never needed to change the kind of dog he was; he just needed to be loved anyway.
This was written for those who spend their time saving others. Family members, animals, or even strangers benefit from encountering your kindness. Because of you, some people question if they should have more faith in humanity. The world will always need heroes, and in your journey, I hope you discover that you’re worth saving too. It helps to know a dog who cowers in the wind; you may learn the survivor inside you is nothing to be ashamed of.
:)
