Can animal interaction help animal health workers develop resiliency and recovery?

Petting a dog or cat feels great after a hard day at work, doesn't it? Helps you bounce back. Am I right? There's a good reason for that. The human-animal bond may be one of the best prescriptions for what ails many animal health workers.

Veterinary professionals need a lot of resilience. The American Psychological Association website says resilience is exemplified by adapting well in the face of adversity, trauma, tragedy, threats, or significant sources of stress. In a typical day of practice we may get exposed to each and every one of those more than once.

Remember Tubthumping by Chumbawamba? "I get knocked down, but I get up again. You're never gonna keep me down!" That's the spirit! What if that's not quite enough? The lyrics go on, "He drinks a whisky drink, he drinks a vodka drink, he drinks a lager drink..."

Sounds like the veterinary school lesson I was taught about how to deal with hard times. Buck up and soldier on!

That method has been taught since around 400 BC when Hippocrates established objectivity and stoicism, AKA clinical distance, as a central tenet of professional medicine. Not a new idea! The problem is that method is ineffective for many veterinarians and may exacerbate fear, shame, and isolation, making things worse.  

Personally, I need a lot of resilience and recovery. The word "resilience" has Latin origins meaning to spring back or rebound. I also need "recovery" or restoration to health from sickness. I've had to bounce back and recover from substance use disorder (SUD), compassion fatigue (CF), and burnout (BO), among other things. In an effort to decrease the stigma associated with these conditions I'm going to tell you a little about my path.

When I was a boy I injured my dog when trying to train her not to dash out the gate. In my unskillful impatience I slammed the gate into her side. She yelped and limped. I felt awful. But her body language told me right away that she forgave me. By the next day she seemed fine.

Months later, when she developed a leiomyosarcoma in her spine, I asked the veterinarian why it happened.

"We really don't know, but sometimes trauma can trigger cancer," he said.

I told nobody, but I knew I had caused my dog's disease. The decision to become a veterinarian followed soon thereafter, as did my experimentation with marijuana, LSD, and alcohol. Guilt drove my bus to veterinary school and private practice, but I did not deal with that guilt, much less acknowledge it, until my first few years of recovery from SUD.

The human animal bond is a powerful healing force, but it's not all unicorns and bubbles. As with love of any kind, there will be negative emotions associated with the inevitable loss of the object of that love, especially if one makes a mistake and hastens that loss. We are human, so that means that we will all make mistakes no matter how hard we strive for perfection.

My childhood experience set me up for striving for perfection followed by suffering from shame. This dynamic duo, perfectionism and shame, sets the stage for CF and BO. I held myself to a high standard, was ashamed when I didn't achieve goals, held others to high standards as well, and worked hard to get them to perform better. I was sometimes difficult to get along with as a practice manager and owner.

My recovery from SUD while a solo practitioner was not easy. I had a lot of help. After a few years of SUD recovery I found I needed to sell my practice. In my case, CF manifested most prominently when I euthanized pets with children present. I suffered memory lapses.

I had an odd feeling when I saw the client at the grocery.

"How's Fluffy doing?"

"You euthanized Fluffy last week, Doc."

I learned not to ask such questions when I had that odd feeling upon seeing a client. I often recalled the euthanasia as I walked away from the client. Apparently my brain protected me from the pain of remembering the event when in front of the client.

I had dreams about pets and clients. I took cases home with me, sometimes in my head, other times literally. I was anxious, on edge, and jumped at unexpected noise. In addition to having CF, which is acute and associated with a particular client or pet, I also had BO from too much to do and not enough time. I neglected my family. When I was with family and friends I often did not pay attention to those in front of me, instead I worried. I was in a nearly constant sympathetic, fight-or-flight, state. I did not recover from CF while still a practice owner. Instead I sold the practice.

I wonder if I knew then what I know now about CF and BO if I would have been able to stay in practice full time. Since selling I've done relief work, technical service veterinary work for industry, worked as a medical writer, and most recently I've been consulting and coaching about SUD, CF, and BO.

I don't think that owning a dog or cat, petting it, caring for it, and receiving its love in return is the whole answer to developing resilience or recovery, but it sure helps. There is so much work involved in recovery. I had to establish a multitude of new routines to improve my physical and mental hygiene. But matching up the signs and symptoms of SUD, CF, and BO with the psychosocial and psychophysiological effects of the human-animal interaction (HAI) (which is easier to quantify and validate compared to human-animal bond) reveals some interesting observations, as described in a review paper by Beetz, et al.

Isolation is a feature of SUD, CF, and BO. We've all noted that HAI has a social catalyst effect. Best way to meet people? Take your dog for a walk in the park. According to studies cited by Beetz, et al. human smiles, sociability, helpfulness, responsiveness, and conversations occur more often when animals are present. And patients with SUD get along better with their therapist when an animal is present.

Have you had a friend or relative in the midst of the disease of SUD? If so you'll know that one of the characteristics of folks with raging SUD is that they lie and do not trust others. Building trust is imperative. Students rate a psychotherapist who has a dog as more trustworthy. In fact, people in general are more trusting of others in the presence of a dog. Children in a classroom with a dog have more empathy.

Folks with SUD, CF, or BO are often depressed. Having a dog present reduces depression and improves people's mood. Elderly caring for a canary have reduced depression and improved quality of life.

Increased stress is a hallmark of BO and CF. Hence the rubber meets the road when we consider the anti-stress effects of HAI. There are decreases in cortisol, epinephrine, and norepinephrine when a pet is present. HAI is associated with decreased blood pressure, heart rate, and reactivity to stressors. With HAI there is increased heart rate variability, which is characteristic of being in a more relaxed, parasympathetic-tone state. With HAI there is reduced fear and anxiety, and in stressful situations, calmness is increased.

I believe that contact with pets, my own and those of friends and clients, made my recovery easier than it would have been without and will strengthen my resilience as I move forward. My belief is as much experiential as it is intellectual. 

All I have to do is feel fur in my fingers, look into those eyes, and see them squint when I hit just the right spot to confirm the importance of the human-animal bond to my mental and physical health.

Beetz, Andrea, Kerstin Uvnäs-Moberg, Henri Julius, and Kurt Kotrschal. 2012. "Psychosocial and Psychophysiological Effects of Human-Animal Interactions: The Possible Role of Oxytocin." Frontiers in Psychology 3: 234. doi:10.3389/fpsyg.2012.00234.