:::TRIGGER WARNING:::

ANIMAL ABUSE / CRUELTY

This is a very hard post to write but animal cruelty is common in this world so it really needs to be talked about. I was not significantly trauma trained when this took place so mistakes were made.  Over time, I took the position that mistakes were simply tools to learn from.  If something good can be gleaned from a big mistake, it isn’t a complete waste and recovery is possible. 

Several years ago, we had two Guinea Pigs.  One pig was docile and sweet.  The other one was a crabby, elderly rescue with a biting problem.

The docile pig was the target. 

I have never known anyone personally that hurt animals and it never occurred to me Girly would target such a small, innocent creature. Guinea Pigs are adorable.  They look like little stuffed animals.  They make cute noises.  They are quirky and many of them are very cuddly and sweet.   I knew she was a bit rough with the docile boy so I kept a close eye on her when we interacted with them.  What I didn’t know was she was creeping into the pen without my knowledge.  

One day, she left her iPad laying around so I decided to see what she’d been doing on it.  I came upon a video of her treating the sweet pig cruelly.  Not only was the content disturbing, she had taken a video of it.  Why?  When? WHAT?  She was calm in the video, talking to herself in a low voice, like she was playing by herself.  Her expression was flat.  She wasn’t upset or angry — yet, she was crushing him (among other things). Literally. The calmness of her demeanor was chilling. He made a muffled squeak in the video. From the other room you could hear me ask, “What was that?”

Girly:  Nothing.

She almost said it in a sing-song way.

To this day, I’ve never watched the whole video.  I can’t. 

My response to bit of the video I did watch was no small thing.  Rage overtook me.  I had tunnel vision, shallow breathing, I felt light headed.  Then, I was seething pissed.  I still have a physiological response when I think about that video.  My jaw tightens.  I grind my teeth. I hold my breath.  It’s happening right now as I type this and this incident took place years ago.

If ever there were a time I would have snapped and assaulted a child, this would have been the time.   As my thoughts were screaming and ricocheting all over inside my skull, I knew she genuinely liked the pigs so… why?  Why would she try to crush him?  Ignore his signs of distress?  Lie about his squeak for help?   Prop up the iPad and VIDEO all of it?

Then, my thoughts went in another direction; maybe she’s incapable of getting better, she’s a psychopath, I should just beat her to a bloody pulp and let them take me to jail.

Then, maybe it isn’t what I think.  Maybe it isn’t as big of a deal as it feels it is.  Maybe it’s my fault.  Maybe I’m creating a monster.

I was a HOT MESS but this could NOT stand.  

After I kinda sorta collected myself I called her into the family room. She sat down on the couch. She remained silent and motionless as I disclosed what I had discovered through clenched teeth.  I was shaking, fists balled up as I stalked back and forth mostly talking to myself aloud. 

Finally, I turned on her.

Me:  WHY would you do that?

Girly:…

Me:  Do you hate him?  Are you mad at him?

Girly:…

I wanted a response but there she was just sitting on the couch showing absolutely no emotion.

Nothing.

The lack of a response triggered me (as if often does for a lot of us adults) so I started pushing for a response.  I started getting in her face growling accusations, lamenting and threatening.  I said mean things about her, myself.  I wailed and apologized to the poor little pig who had done nothing wrong. The poor little pig that had squeaked for help that I didn’t give.

Nothing.

I snapped. I rushed at her and pushed down on her trying to somewhat mimic what I’d seen her do to him. Teeth clenched, spitting mad.

Me:  How do you like it???

Nothing.

Triggered further, I tried it again with some more weight behind it — still seething.

Me:  HOW DO YOU LIKE IT.

Nothing.

Then, because I was so close to her face, I caught a glimpse of her pupils. They were enormous in the well-lit room.  Her expression was absolutely flat but there was no mistaking the size of her pupils.  There was only a sliver a blue around those big black circles.  I stepped back, shut my mouth and immediately retreated to another part of the house.

She WAS responding, she was responding the whole time, just not on the outside.

I needed a plan.

I needed to calm down first so the rest of the day I just did nothing except cry and be angry. I was totally helpless. Being that jacked up emotionally is tiring.  When the adrenalin and cortisol wore off, exhaustion took over.

I made a note to myself: the worst was over and it was all out in the open.

First and foremost safety is the priority.  I vacillated between rehoming them and flinging myself in front of a bus. I knew whatever I decided, that little Guinea Pig with no voice had to be protected at all times.  I banned her from the pen area.  I sorted out a contraption with a bell so I could hear if she touched the door. She was to never, ever, not even for a second go into that room unless I was present.

She understood and accepted the new rules — with that same flat expression which bewildered me.

While I was setting the safety system up, she lingered in the hallway.  I was speaking firmly but mostly to myself, not to her.

Me:  It is my job to protect everyone.  It is my job and I’m going to do it.  No matter what.  It isn’t good for him and it certainly can’t be good for her to harm him.  I know she likes the pigs.  I don’t understand what’s happening but I don’t need to.  What I need to do is keep everyone safe.  I can and I will.

I read in one of the many books I have that when a kid with a trauma history sees an adult not protecting pets, it isn’t exactly great for building trust.  If an adult can’t protect pets, it’s not a big leap for a child to assume the adult can’t protect the child either. 

The pigs stayed in their room.  She stayed away from them.  I mulled over rehoming them but I was worried about my biter.  He was definitely not a sweet, cuddly pet that could be enjoyed and I was worried he’d end up neglected (or worse).  Then again, I clearly wasn’t an authority on safe pig homes. Obviously.

Things were calm for a week or so. She was kind of stunned from my response, so was I. I kept thinking about her pupils. I wondered what her heart rate had been during all that. I imagined what I looked like to her as I was in her face like a lunatic. I felt so guilty — for all of it. Brining them into the home, not monitoring things closely, the level pain that must be inside Girly for her to behave this way.

It was very heavy — but I recovered.

I started wondering if there was a way to intervene using the docile pig as a tool.  Since something about him triggered Girly, maybe there was a solution buried in this mess.  It certainly couldn’t hurt to try.

I started slowly.  If she wanted to hold him, we would sit on the couch together with the pig in her lap.  She would pet the top of his head or give him treats.  After a short while, Girly’s jaw would sort of push out like she was grinding her molars.

Me:  What are you doing with your jaw?  What’s going on?

She threw up her hands from him.

Girly:  Take him.

I did.  I picked him up and that was it for that day.  I told her how I was happy she was able to stop herself.  I’m sure the pig was happy too.  Good job.

We did this every couple of days or so.  Each time, the minute I saw her jaw start to push out, I either mimicked her or pointed it out verbally.  She would throw up her hands, ask me to take him and I did.

After a couple of weeks, the time she could tolerate* petting him in her lap was increasing.  Eventually, when she threw up her hands and asked me to take him, I didn’t.  I left him on her lap and asked her to tell me “where” she felt all these big feelings.  (Usually it was in her stomach).  I would leave the pig on her lap (sitting very close to Girly) for a few moments and then remove him from her lap AFTER we addressed the feeling directly, the feelings crested and began to subside.

There were times she was able to recover and her jaw would relax and we could keep going for a bit longer with him on her lap the whole time.

I made it a point to always end things on a good note.*

Me:  We just want to be sure we end things on a good note.  That way, we build trust not just you with him, but you with yourself.

After all this has been going on for a few weeks I decided while she pet him I would rub her feet and legs.  I asked her to truly make a definitive connection to petting him gently while I rubbed her legs and feet.  I tried to match the rhythm of her petting with my rubbing her feet.  At this point, she was able to interact with him without being triggered much and if she was triggered, it subsided quickly. 

She had practiced the process so much she could rely on this new wiring to help her out.

Overall this process took several months from start to finish and by the time I was done, if she asked to hold him, I would ask her if she was in a good place to hold him or if she was dealing with something (maybe by using the color chart or asking her to do some sort of body scan).  That docile pig who had understandably become very leery and untrusting of Girly began to relax around her.

She never once targeted the biter, he would have never tolerated being harmed without fighting back.  The sweet pig had a much softer nature and could only endure the abuse and try to flee or cry for help.  The fact she chose the nice one really made me question what was going on inside of kids that harm pets they love.

And she did (still does) love the Guinea Pigs.  I knew she loved them, that’s what made this all so incredibly confusing and heartbreaking.

Did she feel vulnerability is absolutely disgusting and must be snuffed out?  Was it a mirror of her own perceived weakness or parts of herself she wanted to kill?  Was it just classic displacement?

A couple of years ago our crabby biter (who ended up being the best boy and recovered from all his weird behavioral issues) died. The docile boy was one again alone so we got him a companion.  The new boy is a bit of a biter himself.  Girly is really good with him. Our docile boy is now an elderly fellow that prefers the comfort of the large pen they live in together.  He’s sweet, happy and well cared for. 

I know how triggering it is for your child harm a beloved pet.  It was hands down the angriest I have ever been.  Her harming that helpless pig was a big clue about the darkness that was residing inside her.  Since I have a fully formed brain with a plethora of life experiences to draw from, it was my job to explore that darkness with her – and help her find a way out.

*If I had to do it over again, I don’t think I would have brought any pets into the home.  I definitely wouldn’t choose Guinea Pigs. Her therapist once advised against it in passing, I had always had pets so it was a staple in my life growing up.  Everyone I knew when I was a kid had pets.  It was just “normal”.

*It truly was a tolerance thing.  Feeling good was very triggering for her.  It was like something would catch fire inside her.  His vulnerability and innocence triggered anger and hatred.

*Ending things on a good note was something I spent a lot of time perfecting.  It was imperative that she learned to stop before things got ugly so there weren’t big messes to clean up later.  

* I could *sort of* understand why she felt the need to harm him.  The fact she chose the docile pig and not the biter was really telling.