July 11, 2024
Content created for the Bezzy community and sponsored by our partners. Learn More
Photography courtesy of Nina Diepenbrock
Having a pet can have its pros and cons when it comes to your mental health. Here’s an honest account about how getting a dog has affected my depression, for better and for worse.
We’ve all seen bumper stickers or cutesy Facebook graphics that read, “My rescue dog rescued me.” It’s a sweet sentiment to show off love for a shelter dog.
People often tout the healing benefits of having a dog, and they’re not wrong — there’s evidence that interacting with pets can reduce cortisol levels, lower blood pressure, and decrease loneliness for their owners and caretakers.
But that’s not the full story for many pets and their owners.
When I was in my junior year at a pet-friendly college, I decided to adopt a dog. My adorable, chubby, bright orange guinea pig, Clem, passed away a few months before, and I missed having a little creature in my life to snuggle and care for. Once my roommate was on board with the idea, I headed to the local shelter to visit the pups.
There, I met Turnip, a wispy black, tan, and white chihuahua mix with an adorable smile and a lot of love. I took him home about a month later, hoping he could fill the void that Clem left behind.
As someone with long-term depression, I knew about the healing benefits of having a dog. However, I didn’t quite consider all of the challenges I would face after adopting a 4-year-old dog rescued from the streets of Florida.
If you live with depression and are considering adopting a dog to help manage your condition, I want to remind you that pets can’t heal our mental health conditions — especially if your dog is mentally ill too. Turnip has a lot of anxiety around new people and other dogs and can become aggressive.
The walks I assumed would be filled with friendly encounters with other dog parents ended up becoming engulfed by fear as I anticipated another dog waiting around every corner.
My experience with a shelter dog has been nuanced. My life with Turnip is filled with ups and downs. While he does help me in many ways, owning Turnip doesn’t always positively impact my mental health.
When I first adopted Turnip 6 years ago, I placed a lot of expectations on my new pup.
I struggle with social anxiety, so I thought walking Turnip around my campus would encourage people to approach me. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to make new friends.
But soon after I took Turnip home, I realized he has a lot of anxiety around other dogs. On top of that, Turnip wasn’t quite as cuddly as I had hoped. It became apparent that he had experienced abuse and trauma in his past, and could go from snuggling up to me to snarling at me in the span of 10 seconds.
When I moved back into my parents’ house after college, I contacted a trainer to help Turnip overcome his behavioral issues. But despite our best efforts, our attempts to help Turnip didn’t make a huge impact.
Even worse, the neighborhood we lived in was full of toxic people who let their dogs roam free. Within the span of 6 months, Turnip was attacked four times by aggressive off-leash dogs and their owners refused to control them or take responsibility.
Instead of making new friends and having a pup to rely on for emotional support, caring for Turnip made me feel more isolated. I began to dread our twice-daily walks for fear of running into an off-leash dog or a rude neighbor.
Soon after the fourth dog attack, I had a confrontation with a hostile neighbor that left me so distraught that I checked myself into an inpatient psychiatric hospital the next day. It wasn’t the only thing that made me want to seek intensive help, but it was the straw on the camel’s back that put me over the edge.
Through all these trials, I never blamed Turnip for his anxiety and corresponding behavioral issues. Sure, I spent many hours wishing things were different. But when I adopted a dog, I knew it was my responsibility to take care of him and never abandon him, no matter what.
I refused to give up on my little guy. He may have his challenges — which have definitely worsened my mental health at times — but I love him unconditionally.
Luckily, my parents and I were able to escape our toxic neighborhood and move away to a new city with strict leash laws. Now, Turnip and I feel much safer when we go for a walk in our neighborhood. We have the space to breathe and enjoy our time outdoors together again.
Plus, Turnip recently started taking Prozac and has seen a vast improvement in his anxiety and behavioral issues.
While Turnip’s behavior can make me feel isolated, having a troubled pup has taught me many important lessons. I’ve learned to become more patient and empathetic.
Turnip is a little guy with a lot of trauma and he’s trying his best to live his life — just like me.
I see myself in Turnip and his struggles. I see a therapist every week and seek out medication and other treatments when my depression falls to a low point while Turnip takes his Prozac. Both of our nervous systems are wired differently because of trauma, some of which we experienced together.
At our lowest points, I’ve had thoughts of finding Turnip a new home and moving on with my life. But in my heart, I knew that was never an option. Giving up on Turnip would be like giving up on a part of myself. He deserves care and unconditional love, just like I do.
Turnip is not the kind of rescue dog who rescued his owner. Wrangling this little guy can be a struggle — especially when a thunderstorm appears at night, and he anxiously paces around the house, scratching on various surfaces until it ends.
My mental health has gone downhill in ways that would never have happened if I didn’t have Turnip. But I would also never trade my fuzzy little guy for anything.
Medically reviewed on July 11, 2024
1 Source
Have thoughts or suggestions about this article? Email us at article-feedback@bezzy.com.
About the author