Lately, I’ve been worried about fluffy little lap dogs whose coat has gone oily and flat from excessive petting. Concerned about Golden Retrievers are being used as body pillows, both night and day. Anxious for horses who have pulled deep inside, barely breathing, as their owners press their foreheads on them, hoping for a healing. I’m not worried about cats, but more about them later.
Perhaps you’ve noticed I’m writing more about stress recently. Sadly, we are all its prey. I’m an affirmative trainer/amateur couples therapist, helping horses and humans find common ground. Stress is a survival mechanism, our internal warning system, that danger lurks. I define stress as the inevitable natural state of being alive.
Horses are honest about stress. Famous for spooking, being bigger than we are, and at least twice as aware. They can be dangerous, but don’t hold it against them. They are prey animals, like bunnies and squirrels. Their only defense is their stress response: flight, fight, or freeze. Flight is usually the first choice, reminding us they are never truly tame.
Dogs have a similar stress response, with similar body language, or Calming Signals, to communicate it. Like horses, they run away, put their ears back, yawn, lick lips. Dogs are different in that they carry a distant memory of hunting. They have been hanging out with humans at least ten thousand years longer than horses, so we know each other better. But dogs and horses have the advantage. They don’t worry about the future.
Human animals are more complicated. We have that similar flight, fight, freeze stress response. Survival means we look for the danger. Like other animals, we focus on the worst possibility. Born pessimists who must work to see the good side of life. We also have that pesky frontal cortex, so we can worry about our thoughts.
Of course, all animals have emotions. Science has proven it, but it’s also common sense. Who needs a stress response if they don’t have emotions? If you look at it that way, emotions are at the center of every conversation. It’s the very heart of the work I do with horses who often have emotional challenges and even psychological damage from the past. Like us, the kind of stress that can’t be cured with a carrot.
Sometimes it wears me down to see all the misunderstanding, misuse, and pain toward horses. Call it stress because depression is too depressing. Sometimes I’m inspired and lifted by the brilliant progress my clients are making, so thrilled that their horses can breathe again. Still emotions, but call this a prettier color of stress. It can be a ping-pong ricochet of feelings at the speed of a hand gallop. It has a name: compassion fatigue, but I take little comfort that it’s considered a psychological condition. You catch it from prolonged exposure to the suffering and trauma of others.
But it is also human to want to help. It was twenty years ago that my dog, Hero, and I began visiting nursing homes. Each time, it was like I didn’t know him. We were in the hospice rooms with very frail people. He behaved in unimaginable ways, different with each patient. Home again, he’d sleep for a full day without eating. I had such mixed feelings, seeing the joy he brought and also the cost he paid.
Do we ask too much? Do we take advantage of an animal’s ability to feel emotion? Not just in therapeutic service, but can animals get compassion fatigue just living with us? Surely you’ve seen the dog cower during an argument. The way they stay close when we’re sad. Are they mourning loss or do they wilt under our grief?
I don’t have to tell you these are prickly days. It’s all the usual stress: family, work, finances. Add on top of that normal roar, the all-caps stress: CHANGE, FEAR, PERIL, LOSS. Stress seeps out of our eyes. It muddies our boots and makes the elastic in our underwear sag. Stress makes us grunt and not eat our greens. When we blow our noses, emotions come out. We think we are stealth but we hide our emotions like a neon sign in a dark alley.
We joke about our dogs being our therapists, our horses being our escape. But it might not be a joke to them. I worry we are a damaged species who use other animals as bandaids. That might be fine, if they had no emotions of their own. If their lives were free of their own anxiety. If we can forget that they have full lives that don’t include us most of the time.
A partial list of the parts of my animal’s lives that don’t include me: My dog not enjoying being an only dog like he thought he would. The donkey’s feet hurting, but it’s almost spring, and he needs to wrestle his pony. His pony needs to bite the ankles of the draft horse, who is certain if he stands there long enough they will be friends. It’s been 12 years. The draft horse can’t shake the mare, who feels safe if she can tuck her head near his flank because she isn’t quite okay. The old bay gelding, whose arthritic back always hurts some, tries to intimidate the mare because he’s a gelding. Duh. They are herd. Pinning ears and arguing over hay and then walking out to nap together in the sun. They are both friend and foe, sharing drama and intrigue, not to mention the duck and coyote soap opera on the pond. Even in their pens, more free than I will ever be. Not a worry about the future. Not a place to dump my trash.
For the past and present offenses of humans against their betters, may we give more than we take. So, on the darkest days, I’ll stay away. Other times, I’ll crank up the music, go muck, and keep my hands to myself. Knowing I’m not fooling anyone, but not wanting to be a burden. Mostly, I’ll breathe.
That’s why I gave the big stress response lecture at the start. We all have an antidote to our stress response that’s even better than horses. It’s free. It’s science. It works every time, no matter who does it first. If the horse blows, we breathe right after, or vice versa. We just have to stop thinking breathing is a boring, bliss-ninny suggestion. Breathing is literally a message to our nervous system that releases, rather than exacerbates, stress. Deep, regular breathing is the best answer.
As for cats, well, they’re cats. Always a soft belly and never a tongue lolling about, panting in the air. Cats are the masters of breath. Good grief, they even purr.
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For humans caring for other humans, this also applies. This section was so fun to read, it almost made me feel stressed: “these are prickly days. It’s all the usual stress: family, work, finances. Add on top of that normal roar, the all-caps stress: CHANGE, FEAR, PERIL, LOSS. Stress seeps out of our eyes. It muddies our boots and makes the elastic in our underwear sag. Stress makes us grunt and not eat our greens.” Thanks for your continuing wisdom.
Thanks, Jann. You’re right, first diagnosed in caretakers.
I love your poetic writing, even about such an unpoetic subject. And this I know from experience – breathing deep does help and so does chocolate cake.
HOW DID I FORGET THE CHOCOLATE CAKE? Thanks, Julie.
Favorite part: the herd on their own, doing their thing together and as themselves. Perfect.
Enviable. Thanks, Minna
My new favorite term: bliss-ninny❤️
Teeheehee. You are welcome, Susan.
I swear Anna, the way you can always nudge me to think of things a little differently! I try to keep my distance too when I feel stressed but I haltered my mare for a walk yesterday she calmly and purposefully walked me not to the gate as usual but over to her hay. I say that because she didn’t pull away to leave me, she took me. Like an invitation. And her 2 friends took a big exhale.
Thinking about it now I have to wonder if the message was, “We don’t need to walk. You should just come eat hay!”
Yes, that’s it, and take a breath! You continue to help me see that calming signals do go both ways. That the things I don’t do with her are just as important as the things I do.
Thanks, Cathy. So often their emotional intelligence is underrated. But you have a mare!
Years ago, I took a course near Tucson that was supposed to help me relate better to my horses and them to me. Equine facilitated psychology. I had read her books and the concept sounded more workable than some of the other methods I had tried, along with allowing the horses a say in the process. The reality was not that. The majority there had no horse experience what so ever, some were very damaged, and the horses were not getting enough time off from being therapists. I remember thinking some one was going to get hurt. It retrospect I saw major calming signals from the therapeutic herd. I did not continue. Like you, I muck, or clean tack with music on and let my horses make their own decisions about interaction. With shedding season upon us they frequently choose me for scritches. I’m trying to exercise more and take responsibility for dissipating my own stress from all that is going on in my world. Sometimes it even works.
Thanks, Mary. I’ve seen programs like you mentioned, hard on horses.
Oh Anna, a fabulous post. When I still gave tours at our farm I would often tell visitors about the amazing emotional and intelligent qualities of horses. I’d explain ears and tails. Licking and chewing. Our horses all kicked off their shoes (except two who suffered bad farriers while racing) and live as horses in their large paddocks. Volunteers muck all paddocks every morning while the boys eat breakfast. I miss mucking a lot. Some volunteers give treats while mucking; not the best idea. And to many of our aging volunteers their favorite fella is therapy. It’s impossible not to love and love on these guys (if they’ll allow it.)
My favorite guy was damaged emotionally while racing. All of my favorites over 15 years have been. He doesn’t like touching, grooming and is ‘flighty.’ I talk softly to him when I feed him, look into his eyes and he repays me by nuzzling my hair and sighing. I hope I don’t burden him with my emotions other than love.
Thanks, Pat. Racing…
Can’t help but think that the powers that be, keeping us in a near constant state of apprehension/stress/paralysis lately, is intentional. The plan. Fearful, isolated individuals are more easily dominated. And other humans not being reliable in the best of times — well off we trot to smother the animals with our overwhelming feelings. Aiming for my default response to life as we know it to be prioritizing the needs of the critters. A long dog walk beats screaming into the void any day.
Agreed. Thanks, Christian
Too many animals know and are subject to that “plan” and have been for years-decades-centuries.
And too many of the “powerful” responsible for that fear seem to have no concept of nature, wildlife or other species.
Anna has shown and taught so many of us a big part of the antidote to all of that.
And yeah – the dog walk sure does beat all that screaming!
Ooh, boy, this could not have been more timeless. I read this after just returning from my volunteer shift at a wonderful therapeutic riding facility. I could go on and on, but I will not because I know that you know. But for years now, I have been worried about the all around health of these therapy horses, donkeys, ponies and dogs, feeling that stress definitely takes its toll. In my capacity, there is little I can do but be present in the most positive, relaxed way beside them. They do, in fact, make unbelievable improvements in the lives of their riders and equine assisted learning clients. An honest effort is made to care for the four-legged therapists, both physically and mentally, but I worry it may not enough. 😥
Bittersweet comment, Barb. Thank you.
What you said is why o prefer cats. They have been great teachers for me personally. Don’t get me wrong, i love dogs, horses, iguanas, donkeys … I love animals and think we can learn a lot from them. I hope “owners” acknowledge their fur “kids”. Thank them every chance you get. Love you, Anna! Thank you for this post.
I have always thought cats maintain the best emotional boundaries. I have always likened my cats to being my roommates. They are the masters at coexistence.
Thanks, Carolyn. Most of us are beyond grateful, but we don’t make the news.
What a great blog, Anna. I, too, worry about the emotional burden horses are required to carry and wish more humans understood the damage they can do. I always try to lift my horses up—give them confidence and not share the heartbreaks large and small going on in my brain. I wasn’t always this bright, and you’ve certainly helped me along in this philosophy. Controlling myself and my emotions has been the biggest battle of all in terms of my horsemanship. Also, I am one of the very equestrians who does not own dogs. I grew up with a wonderful dachshund, Cinnamon. There were only cats after him. I know cats well. They are incredibly resilient and stoic creatures, and I would gently suggest they do feel stress. Their calming signals are not all that different, they salivate, lick their lips. Have you seen a cat spook? Some days I think cats are more like horses than we realize, and perhaps that’s why I love them so.
Thanks, Lori. I would never suggest cats are free of stress. I always say horses are more like cats, too. Dogs are the odd ones.
There is much here in this essay to chew on. I think you are right about the kitties – I don’t think Gusto or the other 3 here are particularly concerned with my feelings, and that’s one of the things I love about them- their sassy independence. One of the definitions of stress in my field is that stress occurs when demands of a situation exceed our resources to meet those demands.
It seems horses are often in that kind of stressful situation with humans, e.g. horse is unable to perform as human asks due to lack of clarity or whatever. Then the horse is corrected and criticized and blamed. But it seems to me the worst I see is the horse carrying our projections of who we think they are while missing to see the horse right in front of our eyes and then we take things personally if the horse doesn’t fit the romantic notion of what we have projected on to them.
I wonder if horses and maybe dogs, like humans, have individual responses or tolerance to human emotions? Some humans just do not make good therapists and some can do that difficult therapeutic work without compassion fatigue. Perhaps some horses and dogs cope better than others, but at this point, it would be most difficult to discern I think.
I could rattle on but thanks for bringing up a worthy notion to think about.
This comment really has me thinking, Sarah. Succinctly stated, I love your explanation of how communication lines get crossed between us and horses. But you are right. It’s just so true. We (meaning animals) don’t all have the same tolerance!! Thank you