The other week I posted something on an Oshkosh social media site and all hell broke out. Typically, I monitor what I post to look at responses and then I either hide the rude comments or shut down the post if it gets out of control. Yes, we do have some opinions out there.

On this particular occasion, I had to leave early for call time for our concert and so off I went to sing totally unprepared for the onslaught of ugliness that I would face when I returned.

As we were driving home from the flow of a concert well sung I stupidly started reading posts as my husband drove. I was flabbergasted to see what had been posted while I was offline. My first post had morphed into something that was ugly and mean and wrong. I had no way of explaining my thoughts, of standing up for myself. People who thought they knew what I was trying to say stood up in my defense only to be viciously attacked. Each scroll made me more upset. The moderator eventually shut down all the comments and I took down the post sick at heart that people were so mean.

I walked upstairs and got out of my concert dress and curled up with my dog on the sofa. He knew. Dogs do, you know. They sense and they know when you are more upset as you have been in a long time.

Coconut curled at my feet and licked my hand. He kept drawing himself closer and closer as if his little body would erase all that had happened that day.

As I petted and murmured to him my heart rate slowed and I did not feel quite as bad. It truly only took a few minutes before I could laugh at myself that I had gotten so out of whack about things that people I’ve never met said about me. The whole thing became a non-issue until I saw this meme.

“When you find that people have failed you, turn to shelter pets. People have failed them, too. You can heal together.”

How true is this? I came to Oshkosh wounded counting the people who had failed me. The driver who smashed into my car, my horrible corporate boss who I knew was out to get me, the insurance company I had paid for decades who did not take care of my needs, the movers who lost or broke most of our belongings.

People will fail us. Period. But we have the ability to grow, to fix the wrongs, to rely on others. For rescue dogs, it’s not the same.

People failed them somewhere along the way and regardless of why they are here. They need us.

Nothing has helped me heal from my traumatic brain injury and the disappointments of my life than my thirty-four-pound dog. And nothing has helped him heal from whatever he went through before thankfully finding his way here.

Dogs are healers but they need healing, too. Sounds like coming to meet and choose the right dog could change your life in great ways. We know it will change your dog’s life. Win/win in the absolute best way.