Rage, my dog, and me.
Last night, my pet snapped at my wife while she was trying to cuddle her. I got wild, and slapped my dog. I was seething with rage. How the hell can she snap at a family member? Who the hell does she think she is? She is a bloody dog and she better behave like one; and she better be subservient.
These thoughts were raging in my mind as I looked at my dog after I slapped her. My wife was looking at me flabbergasted, not because my dog snapped at her, but because I hit her; ‘you cannot do that. You don’t hit your children, right? How can you hit her then?’ My emotions were fluctuating between rage and guilt; rage, because I was unable to control my dog, and guilt, as I knew I should not have hit her. My rage when it comes to my dog is not new. I have been battling with it for quite some time, and I boiled down the reason for my rage to be my inability to control her. My anger flares up when we are out for a walk and she suddenly pulls in the opposite direction tripping me on the way. My anger flares up when she snaps at any of the family members. My anger flares up when she pees inside the house when there is heavy thunder or fire crackers. 99% of her behavior is driven by fear. One of my biggest fears in life was that I would have a special child. I have to thank God for giving me children who are healthy. However, as my wife says- ‘you have a special dog. Treat it like how you would treat your child if he or she was special”.
My soul dog
I love my dog. She is my soul dog. I remember the first time I saw her photograph as a pup on a dog adoption website. I immediately felt a connection with her, and I reached out to the guy who had posted the adoption request. We brought her home when she was close to 2 months old. While she loves everyone in the family, she is almost a one-person dog; she listens to me the most, she loves me the most, and she is afraid of me the most. When we were allowed to take her for walks on the street, after her mandatory vaccines, she was fine. It did not look like she was anxious, or afraid. Gradually we noticed that her fear of noises, moving traffic, and strangers, increased significantly. We could no longer take her for walks beyond 50 meters of our house. Once she steps on to the road, her tail will be between her legs, she starts shivering, and pulls helter-skelter when she encounters some noise, or notices a stranger walking too close to her. Positive reinforcement does not work once we step out of the house as she does not touch even here favorite treats. Her fear is so high. I keep reminding myself- she is afraid, she does not want to disobey you, her fear gets the better of her. However, when she behaves crazily on the road, my rage surfaces, and I pull her leash hard to get her to move in the direction I want her to. All my understanding of why I should not yank the leash and other dog-training best practices go through the roof. My mind’s rationale at that point in time- ‘I am here. Why the hell is she afraid? Does she not trust me? Does she think I cannot protect her?’
My dog is my mirror
My therapist keeps telling me- ‘Your dog is your mirror. When your fears and anxiety disappear, hers will too. She’s here to teach you and help you evolve’. It is true to a significant level. My job brings out all my patterns of anxiety, depression, and fear. This has been true across all the companies I’ve worked for. Networking with people stresses me out, customer meetings and meetings with high-stakes stress me out, and I’ve looked at my email Inbox in fear when I woke up in the morning, not wanting to face what’s there; not due to any particular issue, but in general, the fear is just so pronounced on some days. Being a human being, and a successful professional, I’ve learned to mask my fears well, and do my job. However, it takes a toll on my mental health. I snapped at my wife the other day when she asked me why I was looking off- ‘can’t I have a moment alone’, I screamed. She kept quiet. I was frustrated and angry with a conflict at work.
I have enough examples from my past that everything that happens to me, has turned out to be for the good. The things that I thought were my worst failures, worst periods of my life in terms of how I lived, the worst of the lot I used to be friends with; everything has taught me something or the other. I’ve always been pulled back by some force when I’d be at the brink of no return, always been prevented at the last minute from getting into situations that would have taken me down the wrong path, and been rewarded with successes for even the minutest of efforts that I might have put in. The universe, God, the supreme force, whatever you want to call it, if you believe in it (I do), has shown me multiple times that it (no gender!) has been there to hold my hands when needed.
All that said, I still get stressed. I am still anxious. I still don’t believe things will turn out for the good; I might say it in words, but my lows obviously show that I haven’t internalized it. So, I am afraid to face the world in several situations, I’m high on anxiety, and I snap at people who are close to me for no fault of theirs. See the parallels? My dog is my mirror. I rarely hit my dog, but I feel like it several times in a day. I also feel overwhelming amounts of love for my dog several times in a day. When I hit my dog those one odd times, out of a sudden surge in rage, I realize that’s how I hit myself up too. I’ve had similar rage outbursts where I’ve wanted to punch a wall, with the anger being targeted at myself. I beat myself up mentally as much as I reprimand my dog vocally.
Of late, I remind myself every time I take my dog out for walk that I love her. She is afraid and my love can heal her. She does not need reprimanding; she needs reassurance. I talk to her throughout the walk, telling her what a brave girl she is for walking amongst moving cars and bikes, and how much I love her, much to the amusement of passers-by, who probably think I’m mad. I remind myself that my love is the only way she can heal, and probably, when she heals, I’ll heal as well.
I might come to figure out that I need to heal first for her to heal. However, for now, I find it easier to shower my love on my dog than on myself. I’m sure some self-love will go a long way in me healing, and I’m trying. Who knows, my dog and I might probably meet each other somewhere halfway in our healing journey.
