Learning from Animals: The Story of Red the Dog

           When I was a teenager, a stray dog showed up at our property and appointed himself our watchdog.  He patrolled the wrought iron fence and barked at anyone who walked by.  He had decided he was our dog, and we agreed, naming him Red after his golden-red coat of fur.  His breed?  We could only guess – Golden Retriever?  A bit of Collie?   
                Red was friendly and sociable, but he would yelp in panic and dive under furniture at the sound of a car backfiring or a gun firing on TV.  He had arrived at our house with a streak of singed fur along his temple and we made up a backstory that he had been grazed by a bullet that passed near his head.  Since he already knew how to sit, stay, roll over and shake paws, we concluded his previous owners had taught him tricks.  But when we tried to brush him, he cowered and winced at the sight of the brush, as if he had been abused.
                In my active imagination, I imagined that Red had escaped from his abusers in a dramatic scene that included gunfire. I pictured him wandering in a daze for many miles, until he came upon our house and decided we needed him. Whatever the real story, I was grateful for the angel dog that had come out of nowhere at a time when I desperately needed protection and unconditional love.
                Red died over 30 years ago, not long after I left home and got married. The way he died is too awful to recount here, but let it suffice to say that it was fear that killed him. It was his fear of loud noises that caused him to panic and try to escape his enclosure – inadvertently killing himself in the process.
                Fear may not kill us as swiftly as it did Red. But fear can kill us slowly. It robs us of happiness and joy. It destroys our courage and blocks our growth. It eats away at our health. But fear is not something we can escape. Rather, fear can be transformed through compassion, unconditional love, and self-acceptance.  RIP my dear friend Red.