When animal suffering breaks your heart open

This is one of sixteen malnourished, neglected horses taken from a northeast Indiana farm in 2018. (Photo courtesy Friends of Ferdinand)

Those of us who work with animals — vets, zoo employees, rescue volunteers and practitioners like me — often get asked how we can stand to see animals suffer. Doesn’t it break your heart? Wear you down? Make you hate people?

Sometimes, yes. That’s why we are more prone to compassion fatigue, burnout and even suicide. That is a reality.

So is the need for what we do. The need to create a healthier, kinder world for animals is so huge, in fact, that it takes all of us, whatever our line of work or temperament. Illnesses and injuries can happen even when we are doing our best as animal guardians and professionals. They can lead us into a confusing, agonizing array of questions and decisions. Animal cruelty and neglect, whether we come face to face with it or just hear about it, can leave us wondering about our world.

Several years ago, I worked with six of 16 horses rescued from a severe neglect case (photo above) in my area. When I walked into the barn on that cold morning, I saw emaciated bodies, tangled manes and what looked like untreated infections. All of the horses were in various states of confusion; one had all but checked out and stood vacantly in his stall.

You bet I felt sad. And angry. All the things. But I was there to listen to them and share meditation to help them relax and regroup. Having a way to help allowed me to engage in a way I could not have otherwise.

Besides, the six horses before me were more than their body condition scores or how their human had failed them. They had their own personalities, perspectives and hopes. One knew she would probably not survive and wanted no fuss about that. The mare in the stall next to her just wanted to be with friends. The vacant horse showed me an image of a dark room with a sliver of light peeking in. They didn’t need my pity. They needed to be heard and seen.

This is Millie, whose main concern was being with friends. Whether that happened on earth or in spirit wasn’t as important to her.

It’s OK to cry or be mad as hell. Find whatever help and support you need. Then consider what you can do to make things better. Sit quietly with your dog as she is facing the last months or days of her life. Foster a horse for a rescue. Donate money for hay, cat food or medical expenses. No matter how small the effort may be, it will do more good than turning away or joining the calls for retribution on social media.

A cool book I read a few years ago has lots of ideas to get you started. You can also contact a local shelter or rescue and say you want to channel some heartbreak into good action. They’ll get it. Especially if you follow through.

A symphony of empowerment

Our-Symphony-With-Animals-Cover-Two-Thirds-Original-SizeAysha Akhtar was only five when a close family friend began molesting her. The abuse continued for five years and across two continents, after her family moved from London to Virginia. She told no one.

Then came Sylvester, a German shepherd mix technically belonging to a relative, but basically her dog. They shared friendship, kinship, walks in the woods … and abuse, as Sylvester’s owner’s idea of training was throwing him against a wall.

Akhtar, now a neurologist and public health specialist, recounts their journey and much more in Our Symphony with Animals: On Health, Empathy, and Our Shared Destinies (Pegasus Books, 2019).

Writing this book took Akhtar into not only her own history, but into a slaughterhouse, an animal sanctuary, a prison, and a forensic necropsy by an ASPCA veterinarian. She even corresponded with and visited an imprisoned serial killer who’d also abused animals. Akhtar does this both as an accomplished physician and scholar and as a human being who is deeply affected by what she sees and hears.

Through it all, she challenges us to examine the ways we break with and join with animals in our actions and attitudes. The effect one life can have on another, even and especially across species lines, is profound. It was Sylvester who helped the young Akhtar find the strength to stand up first for him, then for herself.

The stories here range from inspiring to devastating, but you can visit the author’s website for suggestions on how to make a difference. That one starfish is counting on it.