What Animals Can Teach Us About Safety, Trust, and Healing

Over the years, I have fostered more than 100 orphaned and mistreated kittens, along with a few bunnies. Some arrived ready to climb into my lap. Others hid, hissed, froze, or watched me carefully from across the room.

I learned pretty quickly that I could not convince a frightened animal that I was safe. I could offer food, keep my voice soft, move slowly, respect their space, and let them decide when to come closer. Over time, many did.

Somewhere along the way, I started thinking about how much this process has in common with trauma healing. Safety is not something we can simply talk ourselves into. We learn it through experience.

Safety Takes Time

After trauma, the brain and body may continue to look for danger even when the danger has passed. Someone may know logically that they are safe while still feeling tense, guarded, restless, numb, or ready to leave.

We see something similar when caring for a frightened animal. You cannot explain to a scared kitten that nothing bad is going to happen and expect its fear to disappear. Trust develops through repeated experiences. You approach gently. You respect its space. You respond consistently. You allow it to move closer when it feels ready.

Eventually, the animal may begin to learn, Maybe I do not have to protect myself here.

People need repeated experiences of safety too. Those experiences may happen in therapy, relationships, nature, everyday routines, or interactions with animals. Over time, the nervous system can begin to recognize that the present is different from the past.

Animals Can Bring Us Back to the Present

Animals have a way of pulling our attention toward what is happening right now. A dog wants a walk. A cat is watching a bird outside the window. A bunny has decided that a cardboard box needs immediate attention.

When we spend time with animals, we may also become more aware of the present. We notice a cat purring, a dog leaning against our leg, the rhythm of brushing a horse, or the feeling of fur beneath our hand.

These simple sensory experiences can act as a form of grounding. Trauma often pulls attention backward toward what happened or forward toward what might happen. Grounding helps us notice what is happening now.

Research on human-animal interaction suggests that time with animals may support stress reduction and emotional well-being for some people. Researchers have studied changes in anxiety, perceived stress, heart rate, cortisol, and other measures, although the effects vary from person to person.

Connection Does Not Always Require Words

One of the things I appreciate most about animals is that they do not require us to explain ourselves.

You do not have to tell your dog why you had a terrible day before they sit beside you. Your cat does not need a detailed explanation of why you are crying. Sometimes an animal can simply be present.

That can matter after trauma, especially when painful experiences happened within relationships. Someone may want comfort but fear vulnerability. They may crave closeness but pull away when another person gets too close. They may also struggle to explain what they feel or worry that someone will misunderstand them.

Animals can sometimes offer connection with fewer demands. There is less pressure to find the right words, give an explanation, or respond in a particular way.

That connection does not replace human relationships, but it may offer another experience of what safe companionship can feel like.

Animals Can Teach Us About Boundaries

Fostering has also taught me a lot about boundaries.

If I chase a scared kitten around the room because I desperately want it to know that I am friendly, I will probably convince it of the opposite. The kitten needs some control over the distance between us.

People do too.

Trauma can make boundaries complicated. Some people learn to ignore discomfort to keep others happy. Some automatically say yes when they want to say no. Others keep everyone at a distance because closeness has felt unsafe.

Animals give us a concrete way to notice boundaries. Is the animal moving closer or farther away? Does its body look relaxed or tense? Does it seem interested in interaction, or does it need more space?

Those same questions can help us become more aware of our own signals. Do I want to move closer? Do I need space? Am I saying yes because I want to, or because I feel I should?

Healthy connection does not require constant closeness. It allows both connection and space without threatening the relationship.

Caring for an Animal Can Create Routine and Meaning

Animals also need care regardless of how we feel that day. Dogs need walks. Cats expect breakfast. Horses need feeding and grooming. Litter boxes remain completely unimpressed by our lack of motivation.

That responsibility can sometimes feel demanding, but it can also create structure.

For someone who feels depressed, overwhelmed, lonely, or disconnected, caring for an animal may create small reasons to move through the day. Getting out of bed to feed the cat, stepping outside to walk the dog, or caring for another living thing can add routine, movement, and purpose.

Of course, having an animal is not a treatment for depression or trauma. Pet ownership also involves cost, responsibility, stress, and eventually grief. Still, the relationship itself can hold real meaning.

Sometimes caring for another living thing helps us stay connected to ourselves.

Animals Notice More Than Our Words

Anyone who has lived with an animal has probably tried to act completely normal while the animal looked less than convinced.

We say, “I'm fine,” while the dog continues staring at us.

Animals pay attention to movement, tone, posture, routine, and behavior. That offers an interesting reminder for trauma recovery: our bodies communicate even when our words say something different.

We may say we are comfortable while our shoulders are tense. We may insist that something does not bother us while holding our breath. We may agree to something while every part of our body wants to move backward.

Healing often involves learning to notice those signals without judging them. What is happening in my body right now? What changed when that person walked into the room? Do I want to move closer, or do I need more space?

Animals can sometimes make that kind of noticing easier.

Where Does Animal-Assisted Therapy Fit?

Mental health professionals sometimes bring the human-animal connection into therapy more intentionally. Animal-assisted therapy involves incorporating an appropriately selected animal into treatment to support specific therapeutic goals.

Depending on the person and setting, an animal may support work around emotional regulation, communication, trust, boundaries, engagement, or grounding. This differs from simply having a pet nearby and from the roles of service animals and emotional support animals.

Research on animal-assisted interventions for trauma and PTSD has produced promising findings, including possible reductions in PTSD, anxiety, and depressive symptoms. However, the research is still developing. Animal-assisted approaches should complement appropriate trauma treatment rather than replace it.

Ethical practice also protects the animal. Therapy animals need appropriate training, rest, safe handling, and the ability to disengage. The goal is not to use an animal as a therapeutic tool without regard for its needs.

Safety has to work both ways.

What Animals Can Remind Us About Healing

I have watched frightened foster kittens change slowly over time. At first, they may hide whenever someone enters the room. Eventually, they stay where they are. Then they move a little closer. Maybe they accept a touch. Sometimes the kitten that once disappeared under the furniture eventually climbs onto someone's lap and falls asleep.

That change rarely happens because of one dramatic moment. It happens through hundreds of ordinary experiences: nothing bad happened when I came closer, my signals were respected, food kept appearing, the environment stayed predictable, I had somewhere safe to retreat, and I could come back when I was ready.

Trauma healing is far more complex than helping a frightened animal learn to trust, but animals can remind us of something important. Healing does not always look dramatic.

Sometimes it looks like staying instead of running. Sometimes it looks like noticing your body soften. Sometimes it looks like setting a boundary or allowing someone a little closer.

Sometimes healing happens through enough safe experiences that the nervous system no longer feels the need to stay on guard all the time.

Animals cannot tell us that we are safe. But through patience, consistency, choice, and connection, they can sometimes help us remember what safety feels like.

References

Beetz, A., Uvnäs-Moberg, K., Julius, H., & Kotrschal, K. (2012). Psychosocial and psychophysiological effects of human-animal interactions: The possible role of oxytocin. Frontiers in Psychology, 3, 234. https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2012.00234

Chapman, R. L., Baselmans, C., Howell, T. J., Ronken, C., & Butler, D. (2024). Exploring the benefits of dog-assisted therapy for the treatment of complex trauma in children: A systematic review. Children, 11(8), 1017. https://doi.org/10.3390/children11081017

Hediger, K., Wagner, J., Künzi, P., Haefeli, A., Theis, F., Grob, C., Pauli, E., & Gerger, H. (2021). Effectiveness of animal-assisted interventions for children and adults with post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms: A systematic review and meta-analysis. European Journal of Psychotraumatology, 12(1), 1879713. https://doi.org/10.1080/20008198.2021.1879713

International Association of Human-Animal Interaction Organizations. (2018). The IAHAIO definitions for animal assisted intervention and guidelines for wellness of animals involved in AAI.

O'Haire, M. E., Guérin, N. A., & Kirkham, A. C. (2015). Animal-assisted intervention for trauma: A systematic literature review. Frontiers in Psychology, 6, 1121. https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2015.01121