Tag pets

Remaining a trainable human

Nancy Crowe
Photo by Nancy Crowe

The monthly application of flea/tick/heartworm preventive to the back of our cats’ necks is one of their least favorite things. It’s one of those tough tasks I counsel my animal communication clients to approach with calm, firm deliberation. Respectful handling is key to Fear Free for vet clinics, shelters, groomers and more.

Yet sometimes we fail to follow through on what we know. A couple of months ago, for reasons I don’t even remember, I was in a hurry. With applicator in hand, I quickly went to Lucy, bent over her and dripped the liquid onto the back of her neck. She shot me a look of reproach — and worse, hurt — and ran off.

I instantly regretted how I had administered the medication. There was no rough handling, but my “We’re getting this done. Now.” approach didn’t ease the process for Lucy or bolster her trust in me. My disappointment at having ignored my own advice, training and experience was secondary.

Nevertheless, Lucy accepted the treats I offered immediately afterward, along with an apology.

Later that day, when the stress of the moment had had a chance to wear off a bit, I invited her to join my yoga practice, something we both enjoy. For the most part she offers a classically feline “you call that a stretch?” glance and settles on a nearby chair. On this day, when she padded into the room, I told Lucy I knew better and would do better. She joined me on the yoga mat and purred.

When the time came for the next month’s dose, I took a second to remember what I knew. That’s obvious, yet so easy not to do.

I carefully approached Lucy, picked her up and held her for a moment. “I know you don’t like this, but we can manage,” I said, keeping my breathing even. I set her down on her cat tree where I could steady her without having to bend over her. I took another breath, squeezed on the topical medication and gently set her on the floor. Again she hurried off, stopping only briefly for treats.

I moved on to the day’s next task, assembling a glass terrarium to keep our other cat from nibbling on the smaller houseplants (a story for another day). I sat cross-legged on the floor with the base, sides, doors and instructions spread out, along with the enclosed bag of bolts and other itty bitty parts.

Within a few minutes, in strolled Lucy. She sniffed at the new materials on the floor, then climbed into my lap and curled up, purring.

Cats like trainable humans.

Veterinarian finds hope, healing on streets

Nancy Crowe
Photo by Mart Production/Pexels

As the lead vet at a last-stop California animal shelter, Dr. Kwane Stewart dealt with waves of intakes and discouragement. It got to him.

That’s not uncommon among people who work with animals: You go in knowing you can’t save them all (though of course you want to). Then human stuff piles up … irresponsible pet ownership, abuse, neglect, bureaucracy, you name it — and you wonder if you can do anything at all.

Stewart began to stop and talk with the area’s homeless people who had pets, offering his services pro bono. Despite the initial mistrust — how did they know he wasn’t going to take their dogs or cats away? — he found renewed purpose. He details this journey in What it Takes to Save a Life: A Veterinarian’s Quest for Healing and Hope.

“Homeless people are loving, dedicated pet owners — which I hadn’t thought the case before I started my work,” he writes.

Another surprise was how well behaved the dogs were. In clinics, he’d seen his share of out-of-hand dogs whose humans insisted they had no time to train them. The dogs of the homeless did not pull at their leashes, bark or growl when Stewart approached, nor did they attack other dogs. These owners had nothing but time. They and their canine companions could read each other perfectly.

Stewart has also been inspired by those who weren’t homeless, but still pretty beaten down by the circumstances of their lives. One of these was Richard, a Vietnam veteran who lived in a trailer with his wife and several rescued animals. When Richard’s dog Courtney, a Corgi-hound mix, required a $3,000 surgery for bladder stones. Richard quickly agreed. Stewart asked if he was sure.

“Do what you’ve got to do. Period. … Courtney’s a member of the family. I ain’t rich now but I’ve been poor and I can and will be poor again if that’s what it takes. … That’s just something that when you become a responsible pet owner, that’s what you’ve got to do.”

Stewart put some info about Richard and Courtney on a GoFundMe page. He was stunned when $17,000 came in within a week. In what he calls one of his favorite details of all time, one of the donors was another pet owner he’d helped.

Another great detail: Stewart also works on TV and movie sets, making sure animal actors are safe and well. He overheard Brad Pitt bragging about how sweet, loyal and intuitive his own dog was. “If I closed my eyes, I could have been on Skid Row, listening to someone on the streets talking about what their dog meant to them.”

There is, of course, much more to this memoir. Stewart’s own history includes being bullied as a child, getting into fights well into adulthood, mental illness, a broken marriage, finding joy in fatherhood and navigating vet med as a Black man.

Stewart now leads the Project Street Vet nonprofit, which currently has teams in California, Florida and Atlanta.

dog behind chain link fence

Dealing responsibly with anger helps animals, too

Nancy Crowe
angry person fist clenched
Photo by Karolina Grabowska/Pexels
dog behind chain link fence
Photo by Pranidchakan Boonrom/Pexels
Anger can lead to tragedy. What if each of us could, in some tiny measure, steer our anger onto better terrain?

In animal communication sessions, an animal will often show me an angry person in a current or past household.

It could be an abuser. It could be a situation that led to a person or animal living in fear, getting hurt or neglected, or losing their home. Maybe all of these.

It could also be someone who would never harm an animal or person, but is struggling with human stuff. Animals are naturally wary of angry people, though many wish they could help with whatever the problem is. Animals don’t understand the specifics, but they get the threat. Their humans mean the world to them.

What if we could harness our anger to recognize and solve problems rather than create more problems?

An essay I read in seminary, “The Power of Anger in the Work of Love” (in Making the Connections: Essays in Feminist Social Ethics) made me think that might be possible. Theologian Beverly Wildung Harrison said anger is “better understood as a feeling-signal that all is not well in our relation to other persons or groups or to the world around us.” Though anger doesn’t automatically lead to wise or humane action, she added, it can help get us there.

That is, if we calm the heck down first and think it through (my addition).

Can we learn to deal with our anger without being jerks … or worse? Sometimes a pause of even a few seconds can buy life-changing time to respond rather than react. We may not be able to change the situation, but we can change the energy we send out. It matters, I promise.

Using anger constructively might seem too good to be true in an age of pointing fingers and putting up walls. However, check out this excellent Kiwanis Magazine story by my friend Julie Saetre. It dives more deeply into why people are so angry these days and coping in a way that might actually help.

Also, please support those who work tirelessly (and often thanklessly) to help animals affected by abuse and neglect. Increasingly, domestic violence shelters are teaming up with humane societies so that people in abusive relationships can get themselves and their pets out of harm’s way.

We all owe it to the animals, one another and ourselves to do better.