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The Horror of Racing Dogs

A woman brought her rescued greyhound to me. Doing so was far outside of her comfort zone because her husband was a pastor of a popular local church. But the dog was having grand mal seizures regularly and was on such a high dosage of medication that is was too much for his body to withstand.

In the session, I laid on the floor with him and tuned into what was going on. It was very easy because the trauma consumed him. I saw the life of a racing dog first hand.

He was kept in a dark room with a bunch of other crates. He could see the moon obliquely out a high window which suggested he, and many others were all kept in a basement.  There was no love, no interaction except for the running. There was no joy in the running. He was a sensitive soul and it was pure adrenaline and angst that motivated him. The caretaker was a dark ominous figure that was very cruel. The dogs were beaten and kicked often if they didn’t win.

It seemed that the dogs were on some rotational schedule because he watched other dogs go out to race and the ones that didn’t do well were beaten and killed. It was very scary to not win. His turn to race was monthly. I could tell this because he noted in his psyche that the moon looked the same size each time he had to race. As it got closer to his turn, the angst was unbearable. He was literally running for his life. He watched many of his friends beaten and killed for not winning their race. He was terrified.

In our session, I sat with him and just emoted his pain in the form of primal howls. To onlookers this would have been ridiculous but from my vantage point of relieving his pain, I didn’t care. I shared with his new human mamma the atrocities that he endured and why he reacted to the things that were his triggers. The children’s loud squeals reminded him of the chaos of racing day, his human daddy’s black garb reminded him of the cruel man that abused him and killed his friends, the moon itself as it waxed, created such panic as he waited to race again. Sometimes even the ground outside reminded him of the mass grave of his friends.

After the session, the seizures stopped. The woman took the appropriate steps to diminish the triggers. The most drastic one was to draw the curtains so he wouldn’t have to see the moon. He was no longer trapped in the loop of trauma. He could heal.

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