This very long tale about a recent experience I had is really about how our dogs who suffer from separation anxiety can be significantly impacted if left alone prematurely. These dogs are truly terrified of being alone, and long absences can (and most often do) affect their ability to learn and retain information for quite some time.
Learning is lawful. I mention this because those laws of learning require us to manage the scary stimulus (the dog’s alone time exposure) so that they can continue to learn and retain their training. If you have ever considered managing a dog’s alone time during separation anxiety training as an arbitrary request, please rethink it and continue reading.
The Scary Event
I presented at the International Association of Animal Behavior Consultants (IAABC) conference in Asheville, North Carolina, two months ago. It was an excellent conference filled with incredible content, and I also had a wonderful time with many colleagues and friends. That’s not what this post is about, though. It was the return trip home that made a significant impact, inspiring this writing and my thoughts about how similar scary experiences like this affect our beloved dogs.
On the final day of the conference, the night before I was to head home to San Francisco, I was up late with friends celebrating the event. (This is very unusual for me as I am an early-to-bed and early-to-rise person.) Around midnight, I received a notification that my flight out of Asheville, which was supposed to leave at 6:30 a.m., had been canceled. Fortunately, the friend driving me to the airport was still up with me, so we hurried to figure out how to get me home. We ended up leaving in the wee hours of the morning and driving to Charlotte (2 hours away), where a flight that I could make just in time was headed for home.
I arrived at Charlotte Airport bedraggled and tired, but I was relieved I made it to the flight on time. We boarded the plane and then waited. Then we waited longer, and longer, and longer. Severe weather conditions were keeping our flight from taking off. I would have loved to nap or concentrate on a movie, but the waiting was too nerve-wracking. As there was really nothing I could do, I tried my best to remain patient, and two hours later, we were cleared for takeoff.
I started to relax a bit as we ascended into the sky, knowing that home was only five or six hours away. As we climbed higher in altitude, there was a sudden, blinding flash of radiant light and a tremendous boom that shattered my calm. The plane rumbled and shook while every closed window cover was thrown open, and a wave of anxious murmuring swept through the cabin. Though the aircraft seemed to be holding steady, we passengers had no idea what had just happened, and dread began to take hold.
The murmuring of fellow travelers grew steadily more frantic, and I could feel my stress rising. What could that blast have possibly been? Concern quickly morphed into panic. Each passing minute felt like an eternity, and my thoughts raced faster. The enormity of what might happen gripped my chest like a vice, trapping me in a horrible limbo. Desperately, I tried to convince myself that everything was okay, but my efforts were unsuccessful. I turned to the old trick of counting ten breaths, but it didn’t help. My breaths came out ragged, and the air felt thick. The cabin, which had initially been calm, transformed into an atmosphere swirling with fear and uncertainty.
Ten agonizing minutes after the shocking blast, our pilot spoke over the intercom. His measured voice delivered the terrifying news that lightning had struck our plane. The passengers’ shudders were audible, and my hands trembled involuntarily. I began to feel utterly nauseous. Now, if you are reading this and freaking out (as I was), let me assure you that I discovered planes are regularly hit by lightning. Fortunately, planes are designed and built to have conducting paths to take lightning strikes. Unfortunately for this particular flight, though, the lightning knocked out the navigation software. Yup, OMG! We were flying in a storm without radar!
I clung to the fact that the pilot’s voice remained calm and unwavering, but this was not the news I wanted to hear while trapped in a plane many thousands of feet in the air. He assured us that our flight was being redirected to the nearest airport and that all was safe, but his reassurances barely touched the surface of my continually mounting panic. The weight of the situation pressed down on me, a suffocating mix of fear and helplessness. For the remaining time on the flight, I tried relentlessly to assure myself that all was fine, but my body didn’t believe me.
We landed safely in Missouri. The situation remained chaotic, and the people were stressed to the point of misdirected anger as we deplaned. They angrily pushed to get off the plane and even spoke rudely to the flight attendants. The announcement that there was no flight to San Francisco from that airport that day hit us like another blow. The airline assured us they were working on finding a way to get us home, but that did little to calm my nerves. We waited seven excruciating hours while uncertain and on edge. To top it all off, the thought of boarding another plane felt like tempting fate since the weather was still threatening.
Eventually, the airline came through, and we were able to board and fly to San Francisco that night. When I deplaned at home, it had been twenty-two grueling hours since I left Asheville. My journey wasn’t over yet, as an accident on the highway near the airport turned my final stretch home into a further nightmare. I wanted to cry and scream while the ordinarily ninety-minute drive home turned into a three-hour tormenting crawl before I could finally pull into my driveway. The level of fatigue that I felt was beyond overwhelming and was a crushing weight pressing down on every joint of my body.
Once home, desperate for relief, I immediately curled up in bed, begging for sleep, but the stress and overwhelm were relentless, keeping sleep at bay. The night stretched on, filled with trembling, sweating, and a constant nauseating sense that I might vomit at any moment. It was a very long night, haunted by the remnants of fear and anxiety from the agonizing ordeal.
The Lingering Effect of Stress
After little sleep that night, I got up in the morning feeling absolutely terrible, both physically and emotionally. That awful feeling held on tightly for days, and I started to think about how scary experiences linger.
Recovering from a scary event is a difficult and lengthy process involving both the body and the mind. The aftermath of such events can leave lasting emotional and physical impacts, making the path to recovery challenging.
And so it is for our dogs that suffer from separation anxiety when they experience absences that are scary and over their threshold.
The mind’s response to trauma is complex. Initially, it may go into shock, a protective mechanism that temporarily numbs emotions to prevent overwhelming distress. As the shock wears off, individuals often experience a flood of emotions, including fear, anxiety, and stress. These feelings can be intense and persistent, complicating the recovery process. The brain, particularly the amygdala, becomes hyper-alert, constantly scanning for potential threats, leading to heightened anxiety and difficulty relaxing.
This heightened state of alertness can significantly impact the body. The body may remain in a prolonged stress response, with elevated cortisol and adrenaline levels. This can cause physical symptoms such as increased heart rate, muscle tension, headaches, and gastrointestinal issues. Over time, chronic stress can weaken the immune system, making the body more susceptible to illnesses.
I am flying to a conference again next week, and I am super stressed just thinking about my flight. I have never been worried about travel, but now I am experiencing anticipatory anxiety about how the flight will proceed. I don’t believe it is a far-reaching belief that our dogs feel this way after being left alone for longer than they can handle.
Effectively managing a dog’s alone time during separation anxiety training is essential. To help dogs learn to be comfortable being left alone, we must avoid exposing them to the frightening experience of alone time before they are ready. Gradually and systematically increasing their exposure to alone time while keeping under threshold is crucial for making progress.
I would never want a dog to experience the level of panic that I felt during this harrowing experience. Yet, I know by looking at many hundreds of dog videos showing terrified body language while alone that separation anxiety is akin to a phobia. The panic is real for those dogs who suffer from this condition, despite how illogical it may seem to us. We are fortunate to have the power to prevent this kind of awful experience for them, which is a gift.
If you need help with your separation anxiety journey, we are here for you. Thank you for caring so deeply for your dog’s well-being. They are relying on you to keep them safe.
