I’m not the first human to realize that dogs are teachers. They’re comforters, challengers, and learners, too.
It’s hard not to anthropomorphize dogs, and I know they have their own needs and wants that humans may not fully understand. But as much as my dog, Zinny, is her own creature, we’ve learned some lessons together in a way that I can’t imagine grasping on my own. Seeing her grow has helped me grow in big and small ways — and to love, or at least accept, the nonlinear process.
One of those lessons we’ve learned together is that big feelings aren’t inherently bad, and we can learn how to pause and decide how we’ll react to them.
Elementary, I told myself when I first realized this.
Then I scrolled through social media pages of endless sparkly dumpster fires, and thought, Actually, maybe everyone needs a Zinny.
But there’s only one Zinny in this universe, and so I’m figuring out ways to soak in and share her light. Plus, I want to remember what we’ve learned and are learning, because it’s too easy to forget how far we’ve come.
We’ve worked with a few different trainers to learn about how we can be calm around other dogs. Zinny barks her heart out trying to say hello to other dogs, especially when they make eye contact. She wants to play and zoom around with them, and while it’s sweet in theory, it’s a hell of a loud walk in the park.
Dog trainers talk about green, yellow, and red zones, how to keep dogs in the yellow around triggers, how to expand the green zone slowly over time, how treats are rewards not bribes, and all of the lifestyle habits that can help with reactions.
All I heard was that my dog and I are trapped, scurrying around corners and avoiding the mere smell of dogs until we can control ourselves. Be calmer. Just take a breath. Just be better.
Which was not what they meant.
It meant we needed to befriend these big feelings. Be curious. Where did these big feelings come from — anxiety, fear, excitement, a mix? How soon after the big feelings did we react? How can we increase the time between the feelings and how we react? How can we learn to react differently?
When we say “big feelings,” it means feeling intense emotions, whether positive or negative. For many big feelings moments, we were dealing with feelings of uncertainty that led to anxiety.
I’m not new to big feelings. I was in a car accident that caused some “big feelings” for years afterward. Through a lot of therapy and difficult stretches —and incredible support from family, friends, and my community— I was able to expand the time between my big feelings toward highways and tow trucks and my reaction to them. It wasn’t linear progress; it certainly wasn’t exponential, and it still causes a shaky breath sometimes. Zinny, also in the accident, was a huge part of my healing process. She sat beside me in therapy sessions, through panic attacks, and hours too dark to explain to others. As I learned to handle my big feelings with empathy, my reactions became less uncontrollable reflexes, and I was able to notice the warning signs of intense responses. The big feelings themselves started to quiet, too, as if they shrank to the size where I can hold them in my hands long enough to decide where to set them down.
But I had a lot to learn about helping someone else deal with their big feelings.
Zinny’s reactions to dogs are now, thankfully, mostly based on excitement rather than anxiety or fear. Our trainers encouraged us not to hide from triggers and to show her that she can both be curious and stay physically relaxed. (Still rare, but it’s possible!) It takes consistent and clear communication to grow that zone between feelings and reactions. It means showing that we can support each other during the moments we’re overwhelmed.
Maybe those small moments over time are what help us create the difference between reactions, how we respond automatically, and actions, what we choose to do.
It’s still a challenge when we see a dog across the neighborhood. When we do, I tell her Watch me. If she doesn’t, I understand now that it’s not her being “bad;” her brain doesn’t compute my words, and her bouncy nervous system has tunnel vision. This has nothing to do with how much she wants to follow my lead.
It reminds me of the moments when I wanted to drive to see my friends, attend a work conference, or just be able to hear sirens without hyperventilating or crying. It had nothing to do with how much I wished my mind and body wouldn’t respond. I needed time, space, and techniques on how to navigate the responses, and frustration can’t force healing.
In those moments, I herd her away from the trigger to create more space. (I’m still practicing how to be calm myself when shifting directions, because my stress about her reactions definitely never helped.) With enough space, she’ll look at me for guidance. Sometimes I’ll get a woo-woo-woo lecture. What should I do? Don’t you see them, too? Can we go say hi? Are you sure? But once she’s able to hear and understand my direction, I’ll tell her to sit next to me and give her treats as we watch them walk on. If she’s not ready, we’ll keep backing away as far as we need to. We’ll take a deep breath, and we’ll let the feelings and the triggers pass. We’ll walk on. Sniff some leaves, jump scare some squirrels.
I’ve learned that we both need to decompress after we crash into big feelings, and our recovery time is quicker these days. The whole process is messy and exhausting and worth it. Frustration has turned into understanding and patience more quickly, too. Some moments are better than others, but it’s no longer stopping us from having adventures.
Within reason, because she wouldn’t truly enjoy busy markets or hiking places with lots of dogs around, and no one wants to get barked at while in line or for 10 miles. We still have a ways to go, and it’s absolutely worth the work. If anything, we’ve established that we are on each other’s team, no matter what life catapults at us.
Zinny has taught me that hiding from the world doesn’t help us navigate big feelings. In fact, it can allow them to simmer until they explode. Plus, when we share them with those we love, we can lean on each other for support and guidance.
I’m not the first one to realize this, but this is my first experience of encouraging another creature to work through this in real time:
Big feelings happen, and when we’re curious about them and take a deep breath to slow our nervous systems, we can decide what we want to do with them.
sarahkoth.com 