Chattanooga Pulse

I just returned from the Chattanooga Market, and today was animal adoption day, or Bring Your Enormous Horse of a Dog to Market Day, or something like that.  Actually, the spotlight was on McKamey’s Animal Care and Adoption Center (www.McKameyAnimalCenter.org), and lots of pups were around, enjoying being out and about with their humans, taking in all the sights, sounds, and delicious smells.

I have to tell you—I love the Market.  Striking up conversations with artists, farmers, and merchants…oh, my.  And supporting, as many do here in town, all things local, from art to veggies.

As I strolled, trying not to eat all the peanut brittle samples, every once in a while I’d feel a gentle brush across my thigh.  It felt like an act of flirtation, but alas, it was just the tail of one of the many dogs accompanying their humans through the market.  I didn’t bring Betty Lou, as I figured it’d be a bit overwhelming for my gal who’s definitely not used to crowds.  (She’s more the small-dinner-party type.)  Well, that and the fact that undoubtedly she’d be zipping to and fro, wide-eyed with excitement, and someone—likely me—would end up getting tangled in the lea
sh and tripped to the concrete.

But it was a wonderful irony that dogs milled about today, as you’ll read in a minute.

See, I’ve been thinking about the ways we abandon, and rescue, not pets—but ourselves.  There will be more about this topic in future Shrink Raps, but for now let me introduce the idea by starting us thinking of how we let ourselves down.  For example, a sober person may experience self-disappointment from falling off the wagon.  For someone else it may be abandoning personal principles.  Another person may stray from himself through behaviors for which he later feels shame and remorse.  There are countless ways we abandon ourselves, in ways both big and small, through thoughts, words, and actions, leaving ourselves confused and stranded by the side of our psychic roads, replaying an unconscious echo of youthful experiences of abandonment by our parents, and adult experiences of relationship pain.  “I’m not deserving of…” is a perfect example.

The next part of this, of course, is about how we then rescue ourselves.  We may not yet have learned healthy coping tools to do so in positive ways, and perhaps struggle with unhealthy rescue attempts, such as addictions or compulsive behaviors.  Attempts that leave us feeling anxious and depressed, actually adding to the problem.

But we can learn to rescue ourselves in healthier ways, ways that bring us back to ourselves, our true, highest selves.  Meditation, prayer, conversations, ponderings, living as mindfully and consciously as possible, are but a few ways which serve to bring us back to center, back on track, back home to ourselves again.  And when we cannot yet rescue from within, we can look outward healthfully, to friends and loved ones, counselors, spiritual leaders, and yes, to “man’s best friend.”

H’mm, so to come full circle here, we rescue the animals, right?  I have to wonder, when it comes to our pets, who’s really rescuing whom?
I want to share with you a sweet story sent to me from a reader, Scott, who rescued a dog after an earlier one died tragically.  He said his new rescue brought him and his partner closer together.  I can understand that; certainly The Betty is a regular source of goofy and unconditional comfort in my life.  Here is the story.  (Thanks, Scott.)

I rescued a human today.

Her eyes met mine as she walked down the corridor peering apprehensively into the kennels. I felt her need instantly and knew I had to help her. I wagged my tail, not too exuberantly, so she wouldn’t be afraid. As she stopped at my kennel I blocked her view from a little accident I had in the back of my cage. I didn’t want her to know that I hadn’t been walked today. Sometimes the shelter keepers get too busy and I didn’t want her to think poorly of them.

As she read my kennel card I hoped that she wouldn’t feel sad about my past. I only have the future to look forward to and want to make a difference in someone’s life. She got down on her knees and made little kissy sounds at me. I pushed my head up against the bars to comfort her. Gentle fingertips caressed my neck; she was desperate for companionship. A tear fell down her cheek and I raised my paw to assure her that all would be well.

Soon my kennel door opened and her smile was so bright that I instantly jumped into her arms. I would promise to keep her safe. I would promise to always be by her side. I would promise to do everything I could to see that radiant smile and sparkle in her eyes. I was so fortunate that she came down my corridor. So many more are out there who haven’t walked the corridors. So many more to be saved. At least I could save one.

I rescued a human today.

Until next time:  “My little dog, a heartbeat at my feet.”  — Edith Wharton

Dr. Rick Pimental-Habib, Ph.D., is a psychotherapist, minister, and educator, in private practice in Chattanooga, and is the author of “Empowering the Tribe” and “The Power of a Partner.”