Sometimes You Find Mr Right and Your Pathologies Don't Match

This is Drax. He has a snoot that needs booping.

He was intercepted on the way to a meat trade slaughterhouse. I feel ill just typing that. When he first arrived in Cape Town, he’d rush to the other side of the kennel and hide. Soon enough, he learned that some humans were for cuddling, so he made friends with many of the female volunteers. A few of us formed a Drax fan club. The trainers wanted him to learn how to be a good boi. I wanted him to learn to be naughty. I figured if he had enough self-esteem to break through his fear, he’d be well on his way to healing.

In the beginning, we thought Drax’s PTSD was rooted in sound. I had a quiet little space, so I filled out an adoption application a few weeks ago. After the behaviouralist saw the home check, she began working with Drax to gain a better understanding of his hypervigilance. It turns out that his PTSD is triggered by small spaces. My neurospiciness is triggered by big spaces.

Sometimes, you get lucky and the creature you love the most loves you the most.

Sometimes, even when that happens, trauma has other plans.

I want Drax to live his best life. He needs a big garden, tons of digging space, and a controlled number of humans in his home. In the words of Bob Dylan, that ain’t me, babe. That ain’t me. I’ve withdrawn my adoption application because I know, in my heart, it’s the best decision to make if he's to live his best life.

I’ve been in the same position with humans in the past. I’ve found men I adored. Their values were just right. They were beautiful, bright, and lovable, but our pathologies didn’t match. Nothing we could do, sans healing, could make our relationship work. It’s tough to leave a man you love for no reason but pathology, but no amount of love and commitment can cure you both overnight.

On Wednesday, Drax did a bad thing on our walk. He pulled his leash straight out of my hands and ran. There were birds to terrify, and he was going to do the terrifying. I even heard him bark for the first time. After four months, he’s finally gained the self-esteem to be naughty. He’s a happy, evolving doggo, and we’ll all make sure he finds the perfect match.