I have been working on processing my newest memory of abuse, the one where I’m three or four (click here) for weeks now. It is something that is very hard for me to come to grips with since I thought the abuse stated at five, and I thought it happened in their home that was 4 hours away from where I lived. Now I know that this is not true. I was 3 or at the most 4 years old and they lived 5 minutes from where I lived. The memory begins with the certain knowledge that something bad has happened to me and I am hiding in my grandparent’s dog’s box so that it won’t happen anymore. The dog is in the box with me and I am petting her and hiding because I don’t want anyone to find me. And all I can remember is the feel of the dog fur, the dog’s calming heart beat and the fact that I was safe now and no one could find me.
I realize now that this is where my love of dogs comes from, even now when I am upset, all I have to do is pet LV, my dog, and I feel calmer, better. When I have bad dreams or am antsy and can’t sleep, having LV in bed with me makes me feel protected and helps with the fear. I just wish I could take him with me wherever I go. I realize that my child viewed the dog back then as it’s protector and it is a role that my child self still needs in my life. I know that a lot of people think that I am as obsessed with my dog as most people are with their children – i.e. pictures, stories, etc., but to me, LV is more than just a dog, he’s my Prozac.
LV is something that just feels good to hold on to when everything around me is going wrong or bad. He makes me feel important, like I matter. When he chases his tail till he falls over I can’t help but laugh even if the day is a bad one. LV gives me unconditional love something I’ve never had. Love has always had strings. He relieves my loneliness and gives me someone to talk to. For all that LV does I am thankful. Plus he’s a Rottweiler, and he’s very protective of his mommy, so no one wants to mess with him.