I’ve suffered from anxiety for a number of years. I think losing my dad in 2012 triggered it — it lay dormant in the back of my mind, occasionally rearing its ugly head, but it really ramped up during Covid. I worked full-time on the front line and found it unbelievably difficult to make sense of what was happening across the world.
After the final lockdown was lifted, another personal crisis hit when our landlady decided to sell our rental home. At the time, it felt like everyone who could work remotely was moving to Cornwall, which made finding rentals almost impossible.
A few months later, we were incredibly lucky to be able to purchase the home we’d been renting. It was a stressful time, and I just knew we needed the dog we’d spent so many years talking about.
We found Beau on our anniversary. When we first met her, she was so excited she caught her lip on the metal of the puppy pen — she still has a tiny scar from that day. We knew she was the one the moment we saw her: our clumsy little Labrador.
What I didn’t know then was how important she would become for my own mental health. When anxiety hit me hard, I struggled to get out, to function, even to pop to the supermarket. But Beau changed that. She’s forced me out of my comfort zone because she’s had her own struggles too. Taking care of her quietly meant I was taking care of myself — without even realising it.
Getting outside with her every single day has done wonders for my overactive brain. I think I may have unintentionally become addicted to fresh air. We get out early, before anyone else, breathing in the crisp morning air, walking through quiet streets, listening to the birds singing their choruses.
Birdsong is subconsciously comforting to humans because, throughout evolution, birds have sung loud and proud when there’s no threat nearby. We unknowingly associate their singing with safety.
Beau has struggled with noise sensitivity brought on by her hormones. Helping her learn to regulate herself has opened a whole new world to me — a world of understanding dog owners I never knew existed. I was pushed out of my comfort zone attending all sorts of confidence-building activities with her. I joined group chats with other owners whose dogs had struggled, and they’ve become like therapists to me. I can talk to them about anything.
If it weren’t for Beau’s noise reactivity, I might never have been so open about my own struggles. She has no idea how much she’s helped me — by getting me outside, by forcing me to have difficult conversations, by being a weighted blanket for me on rough days.
It’s still bonkers to me that she doesn’t even know my name and can’t talk, but she understands me better than most humans. It’s as if she can read my mind without me saying a word.
I’ll always be indebted to her — for giving me a boost when I needed it most, for releasing all the good hormones, for helping me see the beauty in those crisp, quiet mornings. Building her confidence has built mine too. I still get days when things feel overwhelming, but they’re few and far between now — and nothing a walk with Beau can’t fix.