Dogs and Mental Health

I've always been an animal lover. In the late-90s my family adopted an English Springer Spaniel and every morning that dog would end up in the room I shared with my brother. We would take turns laying with him until we had to rouse ourselves for school, and when we got home, that dog would be at the door waiting for us. After having that dog for near ten years, he passed away at somewhere around the age of twelve or thirteen. My family was devastated. He'd become a family member, and with that, we loved him. Still, though, I never lost that love of dogs.

Six years after that family dog passed away, I found myself in a relationship and my girlfriend and I rescued a dog on a whim. We'd never talked about it, but each of us had either cared for dogs, or currently had dogs in our family. She and I rescued a German shepherd/husky mix--female, pure white, long body, adorable face. It was around this time that my anxiety and depression were starting to get worse. I was having anxiety attacks four times a week, and also found I was not going out to see friends or family to enjoy myself, eat more than once a day, nor was I sleeping well (I think I averaged three hours a night.)

In a random stroke of luck, I was able to get that mixed mutt registered as an emotional support animal by the therapist I was seeing at the time, which meant I was able to have her in the apartment I was living in--one that had a no-dogs policy. In some legal capacity she was mine. She slept at my feet every night, would lay herself on the back of the couch and put her face over my shoulder, and would even speak when prompted. I loved that dog. Sadly, though, when that girlfriend and I broke up, she went to live with the now-ex girlfriend. Was I devastated? Sure. At the ending of the relationship and the realization that I was losing a piece of me with that dog. Now, I know, I could have fought for the right to keep that dog, but I didn't want to go through the trouble to be honest--I knew it would cause more anxiety all around than if I simply let my ex-girlfriend take her when we split.

Still, though, it became known to me personally that having a dog helped my mental health more than I thought it would. If I was having trouble focusing, or I was twitchy, or I was beginning to freak out for any number of reasons, I could call that dog, she would come to me, lay with me, and lick my face. That dog calmed me down. She became part of a routine I had every morning, evening, and even before bed. There were very few anxious moments and depressive episodes when I had that dog in my life. Simply holding her, prompting her to talk to me, running around with her, and laying with her helped keep me calm in ways nothing else could.

After that break up I was left without an emotional support animal, so I knew I would have to find ways to help myself where she used to help me. It was difficult, it really was. I struggled every day, knowing that the routine I had built upon waking up had changed. She was no longer there when I would awaken, nor come home from work, nor was she there when I would fall asleep. I found different ways to help my anxiety and depression after that, which lasted for quite some time. Now, though? Now, I have another dog. His name is Winston and I love him. I have loved him for almost two years now.

Winston is an absolute cuddle bug. He can't help reaching out to put a paw on me, lick my hands (he doesn't lick faces for some reason,) or lay on top of me when I sit near him on the couch. Winston has helped me in more ways than I can say. He can sense when I'm having anxiety problems, when my depression is attacking me, and when I'm generally in a horrible mood. When that happens he will not leave me alone. In some ways I hate how perceptive of me he is, but in other ways I love it. I always know that if I'm in a bad mood, he'll not hesitate to put me in a better mood in whatever way he can. Usually that means hopping up on the couch and laying on top of me. Seriously. He will not lie next to me, he will literally flop down in my lap.

I love taking Winston to the bathroom, honestly, even though some times I feel too exhausted to do it exactly when he wants. I do it anyway, and he'll run a circle around me in the front lawn, look at me, and walk back toward the door once he's finished. He nudges me with his face and puts his paw on my leg when he's hungry, and even huffs at me (seriously, he huffs!) when I ignore his paw. All in all, though, I love his quirks. They're sweet tells, and each day I know exactly what he wants when he wants it. When he's not needing anything, he's right next to me, or near me in some capacity.

So, dogs and mental health? I swear by it. I believe dogs are one of the best ways to help mental health--they notice when their humans are "off" in some way, they love their humans beyond anything I've ever known, and they're fantastic in their own right. Taking care of them, loving them, and knowing they love you is simply wonderful. I do believe that, no matter the circumstance, dogs help mental health in more ways than even my own struggling mind knows.

Dogs help mental health. I will support that statement every day of my life. Dogs help mental health.