‘I Chose My Dog Over My Boyfriend And Never Looked Back’

When I met Zoe, an 85-pound, deaf American bulldog with different coloured eyes, I knew she was my companion. Seeing her pumpkin-shaped head in my rearview mirror as I drove with her away from the Los Angeles rescue gave me a sense of, “There you are!” as though I’d found someone I’d been searching for for years without realising it.

When my then boyfriend — let’s call him Jax — met Zoe, he had the opposite reaction. “We can’t keep her,” he said, backing away from us toward our living room wall.

Wait, what? His words didn’t compute. Where I saw my sweet, furry friend, Jax saw a monster.

Through difficult conversations, I learned that Jax’s time in a community gripped by generational violence and dog fights led him to associate certain breeds with trauma. It didn’t matter that Zoe stayed calm around him.

Jax said he would try to make it work with Zoe, but couldn’t seem to stay in the house for more than one night with her in it. Within a week, it was clear that Zoe would never be welcome.

Jax owned the home, and I’d only recently moved in, so all I felt I could do was make sure Zoe had a safe place where she was welcome. I sobbed, driving her back to the rescue, and hyperventilated after. “If she ends up with no place to go, call me,” I’d pleaded with the rescue manager. “I would come back for her. I’d figure it out.”

Maybe there was a loving home waiting for her around the corner, I told myself. That thought did little for my heartache, but it kept me from falling apart completely.

Jax and I attempted to carry on, but our experience with Zoe seemed to shed light on our differences that now felt like incompatibilities. He needed things to stay spotless and orderly. I needed my own space to be creative, without stressing over any mess I might make. He enjoyed discotheques and nightlife. I prefer sunrise hikes and turning in early. When he told me he wasn’t yet ready to share my attention, even with a dog, I appreciated his honesty. Meanwhile, I wasn’t willing to sacrifice my independence. Or, I realised, not care for a dog.

“I think we rushed into living together,” I told Jax, which started a heated argument. The conflict strengthened my qualms. So instead of slowing things down, we broke up.

After weeks of searching, I found a guest house in my price range that allowed dogs, then contacted the rescue and learned that Zoe was still available. The news gave me a full body exhale.

“She’s protective and doesn’t always like men,” Zoe’s adoption materials read. Works for me, I thought, signing the agreement.

When Zoe met Mike, my kind, funny and brilliant-without-being-intimidating neighbour, she rushed toward him. I panicked. How protective was she? Rather than attack, Zoe placed her front paws on Mike’s shoulders, like a canine hug.

Within two years, Mike and I got married on the steps we met on. Our wedding party consisted of Zoe, Mike’s parrot Wombley, and our dear friends’ senior beagle Eunice Petunia. When Eunice rolled up in her pink stroller with our rings strapped to her back, I lost it.

The writer with her husband and Zoe on their wedding day.

Stefanie Keenan

The writer with her husband and Zoe on their wedding day.

I’m not alone in having chosen a pet over a partner. When I posted about my experience on social media, over 40 people responded with similar experiences.

Ashley, a school principal in Oklahoma, realized her two large, mixed-breed dogs may be a dealbreaker with her partner when an argument erupted over whether or not the dogs would be allowed on the bed once they all lived together.

“They were here before him,” she told me. “I wasn’t kicking them out of their bed!” Beyond that, he didn’t understand her responsibility to them. “He’d want me to impulsively take an overnight trip, without a sitter or boarding lined up, and get annoyed when I’d say I couldn’t,” she said.

She called it quits when her partner took a job in a rural town. “We would have lived over two hours away from our primary care veterinarian, and 1 1/2 hours away from any 24/7 veterinary emergency rooms,” Ashley said. “That was a hard no for me.”

Jeanne Cross, owner and licensed therapist at EMDR Center of Denver, has helped people navigate breakups related to disagreements about animals. “A pet can contribute to a breakup when disagreements arise about pet care, responsibilities or lifestyle compatibility,” she said. “One partner may want a pet-free home due to allergies or a demanding schedule, while the other insists on keeping the pet.” Conflicts can also arise when one person is “significantly more invested in the pet,” she added.

A pet may even give people the courage to leave a harmful relationship. T., an office employee in California who preferred to remain anonymous, was in a relationship that seemed healthy and happy at first. Over time, frequent arguments gave way to abuse by T.’s boyfriend.

On a smoldering, triple digit day, T. returned home to find a skinny, tick-covered dog that had recently had puppies, lying down under her boyfriend’s truck. He told her he’d known about the dog but ignored her, not even offering water.

“During my search for her owner and trying to get her to lead me to her puppies, my boyfriend said, ‘Just leave her alone,’” T said. “So eventually I had to call Animal Control to pick her up. When they were walking her to the truck, she turned around and looked at me, and my heart just broke.”

Besotted with the dog, T. decided to visit her at the shelter daily until she was spayed and available for adoption. Then, T. took her home. “I had never experienced so much happiness and joy,” she said of that day. “She very quickly became my heart-and-soul dog.”

T.’s boyfriend, who at one point threw garbage at the dog, soon became her ex. “I felt guilty and heartbroken for my dog being brought into that situation,” she reflected. “I hadn’t cared about my own well-being, but I cared about hers… She saved me from a horribly abusive relationship, and I will forever be grateful for her because of it. We saved each other.”

Relationship experts agree that choosing a pet over a partner can be the right decision. But there is a “wrong” motivation, according to Melissa Legere, a licensed marriage and family therapist and clinical director of California Behavioral Health: choosing the pet out of spite.

“If a couple breaks up and one of them insists on keeping the pet…just to hurt the other person, that’s not fair to anyone, especially the pet,” she said. “Doing this turns the pet into a pawn, which isn’t good because pets are supposed to be loved and looked after, not used as a way to get back at someone.”

Approached with genuine care, however, the decision has major benefits: “When you choose the pet, you put its well-being first and can make sure it’s in a stable, loving environment where its needs will come first,” said Legere. “Sometimes, this can be the most responsible and compassionate choice.”

Choosing a pet can also lead to strengthened self-compassion. Ashley, who parted with her ex two years ago, remains happily single. She’ll approach any new relationship differently. “One thing [choosing my dogs over a partner] taught me is that my ideal partner will value and prioritise the same things I do,” she said. “Someone that loves me shouldn’t be asking me to kick the canine loves of my life out of my bed after years of them sleeping with me, or to move somewhere that could leave them without [life-saving] veterinary care.”

The day of our wedding, Zoe started to limp. When a specialist revealed the cost of the surgery she needed, we looked at each other in agreement. Our honeymoon plans turned into a “Zoe-moon,” as we rehabilitated her in our living room for two months. All considering, I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

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How Do You Talk To Kids About Trauma? This Mum Needed To Know

In 1994, one of Rwanda’s darkest moments in history took place – a genocide that saw the death of 1,100,000 people – of which 800,000 people were Tutsi, an ethnic group that were minorities in comparison to the majority Hutus.

At the time, Alice Musabende was 13-years-old. Her parent, grandparents, and siblings all died during the war. The now mum-of-two had only a few surviving members of her family; her aunt, uncle, and their kids. In 2005, as part of her studies, Musabende left Rwanda for Canada, building a life for herself; she married (but has since separated), and had two precious boys.

She began working as a journalist and academic, later moving to the UK to work at the University of Cambridge. But despite her writing and hours of research into what happened, Musabende found it almost impossible to articulate the reality of the violence which was unleashed on her people.

“I have spent so many hours, countless of times, writing and reading and trying really to capture the magnitude of the horror. And I still haven’t,” she tells HuffPost UK.

Now, her two children, aged five and eight, have questions about their grandparents, their home in Rwanda, and how their mother feels about it all.

So, in an attempt not to “run away from her demons”, Musabende had to find a way to voice the unspeakable horror she endured at such a young age. Which is how she began making a radio show with the BBC to start the story.

In Unspeakable, Musabende asks for help and guidance from other genocide survivors, second-generation holocaust survivors, a therapist who works with AIDS orphans in South Africa, and a publisher of stories in Rwanda.

She explores identity, generational trauma, and the place of storytelling and with the help of these other voices, she tries to piece together the answer to one fundamental question: how do I tell my kids about my trauma?

Mum-of-two Alice Musabende is figuring out the words to explain what happened in Rwanda 27 years ago

Mum-of-two Alice Musabende is figuring out the words to explain what happened in Rwanda 27 years ago

Firstly, says Musabende, she has had to come to terms with her own past.

“For the last 20 years, I’ve focused so much on me,” she explains. “I’ve done therapy, I tried to figure out how to live with PTSD, to understand how I will actually live a life without family, without anyone. I thought I was really getting a good handle on it. Then I moved here and in the middle of trying to reconfigure being a single parent and my work, I remember just one day thinking, ‘Oh no, I’m going to have to tell the boys about the genocide.’

“That bit was way more complicated than anything else I have done, mainly because the story of the genocide, for me, is extremely painful, but I think it’s painful for all the other survivors as well. Because I’ve spent so many years trying to run away from it, it was so hard.”

Growing up, Musabende was aware of the ethnic persecution of her Tutsi people – her family members had been arrested on suspicion of being part of rebel forces, and her granddad’s land had been seized.

After travelling to Ottawa for her graduate studies, Musabende recognised signs of PTSD in herself. She explains: “In school I couldn’t really function. I had a really difficult transition, I did so many things that we now associate with post traumatic stress disorder but at the time no one told me what it was.

“It wasn’t until I started different forms of therapy to make sense of what I was going through. Through those sessions, I wanted to find the essence of who I was, I wanted to be okay. I wanted to have joy, and I wanted to be able to use my brain to serve, to study and perhaps maybe even teach.”

In 2017, Musabende went back to Rwanda for the first time. Two years later, she took her two sons to show them where their family came from – so they could understand the great beauty, as much as the trauma, of her birthplace.

“I remember arriving in Rwanda and looking at these tiny humans and thinking, ‘This is their home, but I don’t know if they know that this is their home as well.’ That’s when things just started percolating in my head, I was like: ‘How do I do this, what do I say?’ She took her eldest boy, six at the time, to where her house used to be – now just a plot of land since it was destroyed in the genocide.

“I told him that’s where my home used to be and that’s where my brother and sister used to live. We were walking on this plot, he looked down, saw a piece of cloth, picked it up and said, ‘Do you think this was your sister’s dress?’ And I hadn’t seen that one coming. It was a bit of a struggle but I couldn’t cry.

“My words just left me. That’s when I realised he has questions. He has real questions where he’s trying to figure out where he fits into a story that’s so obscure and mysterious to him.”

Alice has since taken her children to Rwanda to show them the country

Alice has since taken her children to Rwanda to show them the country

And Musabende had questions of her own, which is how the documentary came about. “I couldn’t write about it,” she says. “I don’t know how to write about it, so I thought to just ask people what they think.”

She was terrified. “I thought, ‘Oh, am I traumatising my children by telling them these horrible things?’ Previously I’d thought it’s best not to say anything as you don’t upset them. But I know that they want to know. They’re not asking tough questions. Their questions are like ‘Do you miss your mum?’ or ’Do you think your mum would have loved me?’Those things are so difficult because they send you right back to that place where you wish you didn’t have to go.

Unspeakable is Musabende’s attempt to bridge the gap between that place she has avoided for the past 27 years “and the place I am in now, as a parent hoping to raise healthy, well-grounded, empathetic children.”

Alice's radio show Unspeakable comes out today

Alice’s radio show Unspeakable comes out today

It’s not just genocide she has to talk to her children about. By virtue of being a mother to two young Black boys, Musabende knows that she will become accustomed to difficult conversations.

“Raising Black boys in a western culture that’s always telling them so many things about them that are false, it’s an even bigger responsibility to tell them about where they come from, what happened to them and tell them exactly who they are, so that when they get out there, they know in their hearts that they’re valued, that they are loved, that they are cared for.

“It is my job to tell my kids who they are. I haven’t quite figured out how to tell them the full story of my history so you’ll see in the documentary, I’m still learning, it’s a long journey.”

Unspeakable airs on BBC Radio 4 on Fridays and is available on BBC Sounds.

Approaching conversations about trauma

Alice Musabende wants to share the following advice for fellow parents.

First of all, accept you don’t know how to say it all

“That realisation that I don’t know how to talk to my children was the beginning of my quest because for a very long time, I just pretended that it wasn’t there. Once I sat down and I thought, ‘I know I have to, and I don’t know how,’ that was the beginning.”

Find a safe space to make sense of the trauma yourself

“I wouldn’t have been able to have this conversation five years ago. I had to do so much of my own work in self-healing, therapy, in figuring out how to listen. It took me so much time to get here.”

Seek guidance, talk to others who might understand

“You’ll be surprised about how many people are struggling to address these serious issues with their children. There are parents everywhere trying to figure out how to say things.”

Know that the conversation is hard but important

“You can’t just focus on the fact that you are transmitting trauma. You also have to know that by processing things, by seeking to figure out what the appropriate language is, you’re also ensuring that your kids will be more resilient, because you are being more resilient.”

Celebrate yourself for all that you’ve overcome

“We often forget to celebrate our resilience but ultimately, we should really look at ourselves and think, ‘We are here. We made it. We have children and they seem somewhat okay.’ That’s a win for me.”

Useful websites and helplines

Mind, open Monday to Friday, 9am-6pm on 0300 123 3393.

Samaritans offers a listening service which is open 24 hours a day, on 116 123 (UK and ROI – this number is FREE to call and will not appear on your phone bill).

CALM (the Campaign Against Living Miserably) offer a helpline open 5pm-midnight, 365 days a year, on 0800 58 58 58, and a webchat service.

The Mix is a free support service for people under 25. Call 0808 808 4994 or email help@themix.org.uk

Rethink Mental Illness offers practical help through its advice line which can be reached on 0808 801 0525 (Monday to Friday 10am-4pm). More info can be found on rethink.org.

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Trauma Cleaners: Meet The People Who Clear Up After Murders, Meth Labs And Hoarders

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