Transforming Trauma

Healing with the help of a canine-companion

Today I want to talk a bit about how animals can enhance our well-being. An animal who is thriving can have a profound effect on our brain chemistry while living alongside us in our environment. If a human being has experienced trauma their brain can often create a threat response even in seemingly calm or normal environmental conditions. Those who have experienced post-traumatic stress work to find modalities that move them away from pathology and toward resilience. The Polyvagal Theory emphasizes the autonomic nervous system and its role on our overall health and how it impacts our behavior. In Polyvagal Theory there is another concept called nueroception whereby the body’s pre-conscious awareness of threats and allowing us to determine if the environment is safe giving us a sense of our own well-being. Many people who experience trauma are dealing with it pre and subconscious threats and one of the gifts of animals especially our canine companions is being able to reach people before these triggers manifest and also to help triggered persons come back to being present. The presence of safe animals can inform our neuroception of safety and alter how the person’s brain is perceiving the environment as safe or threatening. Working with a dog could be a huge help toward finding help in treating conditions like PTSD and increasing our social capital.

“As a complement to existing practices, animals often provide unique, additional benefits to the alleviation of PTS Symptoms. For example the presence of an animal often offers a source of safety and support….animals can be trained as service animals to assist with individualized needs, and to address specific, daily challenges caused by PTS. For example, a core role of many psychiatric service dogs is to promote biofeedback function to reduce anxiety of arousal. Service dogs are trained or naturally lean to sense when an individual is experiencing a heightened state of stress, which may lead to an anxiety or panic attack. In many cases, the animal alerts the individual byd nudging and/or licking them, and thus encourages the person to concentrate on the dog, take deep breaths, and use mindfulness techniques to refocus on the present. The biofeedback notification, along with the anxiolytic interaction, can help to decrease the anxiety and instill calm among people in situations of stress.” Transforming Trauma: Resilience and Healing Through Our Connections With Animals

Today’s blog is a guest post highlighting the incredible personal transformation and growth of a dear friend of mine and a client named

Jamie

who is allowing me to share her moving story. We’ll learn about her journey and the selection, adoption and training of a shelter pup who needed a second chance and how it changed both of their lives. It is a beautiful depiction of the human-animal bond and I’m honored to share their story with you here. So please enjoy as I introduce Jamie Stone.

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In order to keep on living, I knew I needed more. The steadfast love and support from my husband, kids and close friends, my psychiatrist, and a combo cocktail of antidepressants, weren’t keeping the multiple daily flashbacks, the screaming nightmares, nor thoughts of suicide, for the previous nine years, at bay.

By January of 2019, I knew I needed something more, and my gut was saying, “Service Dog”. I threw myself into researching as many aspects of the subject I could find, including how and how soon I could bring one into my life. I was stunned to find that the process of waiting for a dog, pre-trained to help people with PTSD, was going to take at least a couple of years, and could cost up to $30,000. I didn’t have the luxury of either one.

Training your own Service Dog was an option, but I knew that neither my husband nor I had the knowledge or experience needed. My online search focused in on finding someone in Denver who had those skills. There were a number of them listed, but there was something about this trainer and behaviorist, Drew Webster, who taught at the University of Denver’s Institute of Human/Animal Connection, that drew (sorry) me to reach out. On February 27, I made my first contact through an email. I was open about the things I was dealing with, and about my hopes of what a Service Dog could bring to my life. The email I received, that same day, was thoughtful, detailed, practical, and warm. He asked many questions, I answered them all, and we set up a time to talk. The human connection was immediate.

Now to find the dog. Petfinder was my first stop online, and Colorado the first filter. A number of dog rescues throughout the state came up, and I researched them all. Farfel’s Farm and Rescue in Boulder struck me as trustworthy, and I contacted them on March 1st. Our long conversation about what I was looking for, a dog that had the potential to bring me back from flashbacks, wake me from nightmares, and accompany me to public places like supermarkets, restaurants, and travel once again-I had been unable to do those things for the last nine years.

Before Farfel’s would even consider us as potential adopters, they required us to fill out a very detailed questionnaire about our lifestyle, family dynamics, our home setting, our age, our activity level, and our experience with dogs. This made us feel even better about the foster based rescue we had chosen-it was clear that they cared.

On March 7th at 2:00 PM, I received a call from Jeff Farfel, he told me he had sent me an email about a dog named Dustin. I needed to look at the email, and let him know in the next hour if we wanted to foster him for a week, to see if it was a good fit. Jeff said there was another family that wanted him, which added to the urgency, especially since he was arriving from a Houston kill shelter the next day. I persuaded (begged) for an extra hour to get back to him.

I received a grainy photo and a description. He sounded good, but I was no expert, and forwarded the email to Drew, left a message, and hoped he would receive it and respond in time. He did, and I remember his words. He told me that he used to work in a shelter, and that shelters do a great job of marketing their dogs, but if Dustin was half as good as their story, he thought he’d be great. We believed him.

The next morning, I headed to Petco, with a mission, and a list in hand of everything we’d need in our dog-less home. I filled my car trunk, and headed to Boulder. Dustin was there when I arrived, a scruffy and skinny little guy, whose tail wagged mightily when we met. I brought him home. We named him Beau.

I didn’t know how sick he was until his fourth day with us. He was breathing shallowly, lying on his side, and his eyes and coat were dull. I texted my husband who was at a meeting, and told him we needed to get him to a veterinary emergency room. He came home right away. My heart was breaking as I stroked Beau’s fur, with tears streaming down my face, I looked at him, felt the trauma that I just knew he must have experienced, and promised that I would take care of him for the rest of his life.

It took six weeks before we got his malnutrition, kennel cough, and infected neutering incision under control. In the meantime, we got to know him, and he us, better. The name Beau, just didn’t fit, and one day as we sat on our living room couch with our new pup between us, my husband commented that our former street dog from Houston, now had the life of Riley. We looked at each other, and exclaimed together, “Riley!”

With Riley feeling better, it was time for Drew to meet Riley and me. It was immediately clear that our partnership was meant to be (from Riley’s and my point of view, anyway).

Being a street dog for quite a while (according to BARC, the Houston kill shelter that caught and brought him off the streets), Riley didn’t know a whole lot about a loving and secure life in a human world. But clearly, from the way he interacted with us at home, wanting to be physically close especially to me, and the huge butt swinging wags and eye contact he gave Drew every time he worked with us, that Riley was more than capable, willing, and wanting to learn.

Twice a week, we worked on basics, like leash walking, and important safety cues like “Wait” before crossing the street or when I opened a car door to let him out, “Leave it” if he was about to eat something he shouldn’t, and “Come” if he was off leash and getting a little too far from me while sniffing and exploring. The connection and trust shared between the three of us, Drew/Riley, Drew/me, Riley/me grew deeper.

Drew helped me to be observant of our surroundings, notice and read Riley’s body language, and anticipate and redirect when certain things, probably from negative past experiences, caused Riley to react. One of those things was for him to lunge to the end of his leash and bark loudly, when teenage boys would come running towards or by him. We found out a few years later, when he had x-rays done, that he had been shot six times, and all of the buckshot still remained in his body. My heart broke again.

The skills Drew taught both Riley and me, were part of the larger goal, exposing him to a large variety of people, public places, and activities, supported by praise, lots of high value treats, and fun built into the experiences.

Riley passed two important tests, the AKC Good Citizen, and the AKC Public Access. Drew, an AKC Certified Evaluator, hadn’t told me that we were being tested. Smart move Drew!

From my perspective as his student, a large part of the essence of Drew’s philosophy, as both a trainer and animal behaviorist, was presented beautifully, and simply in one sentence, when the time came to begin working on the tasks I needed Riley to perform when I was in distress. Drew said, “Let’s work with what Riley does naturally”. I have watched him showing that same level of respect, honoring and seeing other dogs that he trains.

I most needed Riley’s help when I was having a flashback, and disappeared from the present, with my body coiled tightly.. So far, nothing had worked to bring me back, other than someone sitting nearby, letting me know they were there, and waiting out what could take an hour or more, multiple times a day.

Riley loved to be close to me, sit on my lap (all 50 pounds of him at this point) and he really loved to lick.

He was already attuned, through our strong bond, to changes in my voice. When I would cry, he would come to me, no matter where he was in the house. It was sweet, and it was soothing, but not enough to really help.

I described to Drew the progression of what happened, from triggering to full blown flashback—my right hand shooting to the side of my face, my smooth speech pattern changing to a stammer, crying out in hopelessness, and then covering my head with my hands and curling up with my head and hands tucked deeply into my knees.

Drew had me begin the task training by going into a loosely curled up position, holding a treat against one knee. Riley nosed his way to it easily. Through the following weeks, I made him work harder to get it, pulling the treat back, closer to my face. He would get the treat, I would lift my head, showering him with tons of praise and pats. He loved this game! And, would lick my face in what felt like appreciation.

Unfortunately, he had many opportunities to “play” this game, not receiving treats, but never failing to be there for me. In a real flashback, with my body in as tight of a coil that it could be, Riley would push his way through to my face, and he would lick, and lick, and lick. There was no way I could be in any place but back in the present, when that eventually obnoxious and long lasting licking was going on. He learned that task well.

But, it went beyond learning.

Every time, as I came back to the present, I would talk to him, telling him what a good boy he was, and telling him I was okay. Riley knew when I wasn’t telling him the truth, and no matter what I said, he didn’t stop, until he knew when I really was okay.

In public, he would wear his Service Vest, a ritual that began with a special treat as I put it on. I’d ask for a sit, and say, “Ready to work?”. His posture and countenance assured me that he was. When he sensed something in me, he would stand between my legs, and wait until I was ready to move again, or nudge me as if he needed to go potty, at times of my overwhelm in social situations. His presence, intuition and training, allowed me to venture back into the world, and start to live a more normal life again.

In our “off-time” together, when Riley could be a non-working dog, there were hikes and sniffing and exploring, playtime with four-legged friends, games of tug with my husband, and learning fun tricks. He loves challenges!

For three and a half years, we were constantly together in the outside world. Things changed in late 2022, when I was one of the very lucky people with debilitating PTSD who received a breakthrough drug, MDMA. My husband described the change in me as transformational, the Jamie he had lost for twelve years, was back.

My daily needs for Riley to work have slowed down a lot since then, but we continued and continue to both practice, and play a lot. He remains highly attuned to any changes in me, and is with me in a flash when I need him.

Riley is a very intelligent dog, with a strong desire to work, and learn new things, and training him, has been a great focus for me as well.

Whether teaching him to roll or toss a ball, catch a ball with his front paws while standing on his back legs, weave through poles, or crawl through a tunnel, Drew is always on my shoulder, his words in my head, encouraging me to focus in on what Riley does naturally, and teaching him through shaping of the tricks, with lots of praise, pats, treats, and fun.

To have found Drew, a person like me who highly values heartfelt connections, was and still remains, a gift. I know I can always reach out to him with a question.

With Drew, and with Riley, with family and with friends, I find that the best connections come from an authentic desire to communicate with each other in ways that each of us understand. The rich rewards are immense.

Citations:

Molly Jenkins, Philip Tedeschi, Molly Jenkins, and Philip Tedeschi. Transforming Trauma: Resilience and Healing Through Our Connections With Animals. Purdue University Press, 2019. Print.

Kruger, Katherine A, and James A Serpell. “3 - Animal-Assisted Interventions in Mental Health: Definitions and Theoretical Foundations.” Handbook on Animal-Assisted Therapy. Third Edition. Elsevier Inc, 2010. 33–48. Web.

Polyvagal Theory: https://www.polyvagalinstitute.org/whatispolyvagaltheory?gad_source=1&gclid=Cj0KCQiAwtu9BhC8ARIsAI9JHanoaKMqGQ1zAbxo1aBjlfIF9lJwggTHrleQwOpgFKbMvxJtXENKLDAaAivlEALw_wcB

Beetz, Andrea M. “Theories and Possible Processes of Action in Animal Assisted Interventions.” Applied developmental science 21.2 (2017): 139–149. Web.

https://apolloneuro.com/blogs/news/neuroception-how-your-body-detects-threat-before-you?srsltid=AfmBOooOuFK10ZeE2TICoe1fF8aQ4TI7VInFD2fHcdieqo5KjurZdDaE