This has been a difficult couple of weeks for those of us in the animal welfare and behavior fields. About two weeks ago, Dr. Sophia Yin, one of the world’s most respected and well-known veterinary behaviorists committed suicide. Many called Dr. Yin “a pioneer in the field of force-free, positive-reinforcement dog training.” I agree. She bridged a conversation between veterinarians and dog trainers on how to best support the animals in their care, minimizing stress.
It took me some time to write about this loss because her death left me rattled for several days. I could not ‘get my arms around it’. I never worked with Dr. Yin in person and never had the opportunity to hear her speak in person, yet I was devastated. I felt as though I lost a mentor and colleague. I have watched Dr. Yin’s videos, read her books, followed her blog, and shared her posters and articles with clients and peers for years. A great deal of my work is shaped by the work Dr. Yin had done.
After many conversations with friends and colleagues in the field, I realized why I was struggling so much over the death of a woman I had never met. Dr. Yin was a renowned and powerful force in the animal behavior field. We assume that her death was related to ‘compassion fatigue’. If she couldn’t handle the stress and pressure involved in making a difference in this field, then how can I? Being a dog trainer is intensely emotional work. Many of the calls I receive are for aggression and fear. My clients and I often joke together that I am their personal trainer/therapist as well as their dog’s trainer. The work I do requires me to go into a family’s home and understand the dynamics of the relationships in the household. As we work together to treat the dog, I also manage the emotions of the family members. Sometimes, even all of the training we do, doesn’t work. Sometimes we end up with one of the following results: The client needs to euthanize the dog (thankfully very rarely); the dog needs to be re-homed; the family has to accept the dog for who s/he is. There is always a certain amount of sadness that follows.
I am also a trainer at a not-for-profit shelter. It takes an emotional toll on me to see dogs, struggling with the stressful conditions of a shelter environment. And I am lucky to be working at a fantastic shelter with resources to support the dogs in ways other shelters cannot, including training, enrichment, and exercise. However, the best shelter is still not a home with a couch and human affection. Dogs end up at the shelter as a stray, owner surrender, or seized by animal control. Some of those dogs are too dangerous to be deemed adoptable. Sadness follows again.
As a person who dealt with depression several years ago, I am sensitive to the heaviness and loneliness of the illness. My heart gets heavy when I learn of someone who cannot see to the other side and believes death is the only solution. I have made many changes in my life to better support myself. And when things start to feel heavy, I reach out for support. That’s what I did this time when I could not reconcile the suicide of such an incredibly impactful woman.
Like Dr. Yin, transforming animal welfare and what responsible pet ownership looks like are what matters to me. These causes fire me up each day. What I’ve learned from processing this loss is that once again, I’m not alone. I have a team of people working with me and I have friends and family to lean on. And although I am a very driven person, I have learned to balance my life’s work with time for other joys in life, including my fiancé, my dogs, agility, reading, cooking, running, and yoga. This delicate dance of balance is what has given me peace even when the world does not seem to be working. I’ve learned, through lots of self-study, that I am worth it. And in order to make the difference I want to in the world, I have to take care of me as well as I take care of the animals I care about.
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