I don’t understand everything my humans talk about, but I can feel it.
I sniff the worry in their scent, hear the tension in their voice, and sometimes they scratch my ears absentmindedly. I can smell they’re stressed when the storm winds howl or when they watch the snow melt faster than it should. I don’t understand why they’re scared, but I know they are.
I think maybe it’s because lately the grass feels drier under my paws, and the air smells smoky. Even though I can’t name it, I know something isn’t right.
The world seems to be changing, and not in a way that would make my human wag her tail if she had one. But I can smell that their fear isn’t a weakness, but rather a sign that they care. I care too, in my own way. That squirrel I chase through the park? He lives here too, and my walks would be pretty sad if I didn’t see him. It’s not strange or silly to feel that way, it’s only natural.
When I’m scared (like during thunderstorms), I press close to my human, and they make it better just by being there. Maybe that’s the answer for you too: not to face this change alone. I sit with my fear, but don’t let it be the only thing to hold onto.
Trauma and anxiety go paw-in-paw.
When I hear the rain, I start to shake because I already know the thunder is coming. Even when it’s over, the fear can linger, changing how we feel and act every day. I don’t need to see the storm to know it’s scary. Sometimes just hearing about it is enough to make me feel it too.
Usually, when I’m anxious, I sit and lick my paws, but my human doesn’t let me get away with that anymore. But you know what helps me kick that anxious feeling? Doing something like running, digging, or barking (my human doesn’t like that either, so I save it for special occasions). Maybe taking action could help you too. You could plant a tree, pick up trash, or connect with others who feel the same. You don’t have to fix everything, but even small actions add up to real change. The world is big, and you are small (trust me, I get it), but small things matter. A seed becomes a tree. A single pawprint can start a trail.
So, if life feels out of whack, like when my human messes up my feeding schedule, don’t just roll over. It might feel like you’re chasing your tail, or barking up the wrong tree at times, but don’t let the dog days get you down.
Remember, together, anything is paw-sible. And, if you need to howl at the smoky sky, well, I’ll howl with you.