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    My Therapist and Other Animals
    My Therapist and Other Animals
    My Therapist and Other Animals
    Ebook93 pages1 hour

    My Therapist and Other Animals

    By Rene Chorley

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    About this ebook

    "An animal is a prescription without side effects."

    Do you love animals? Do you feel a connection with a furry friend? Do you believe animals offer something that can touch and heal a human heart?

    My Therapist and Other Animals tells of the healing bond that can be created when animals are participants in our lives. These true stories document the loving connection between humans and those with whom we share a planet. Written by René Chorley, an experienced attachment therapist, it illustrates how animals can reach through the pain of abuse, neglect and trauma and reignite the ability to feel safe, cared for and valued. Animals can make a difference in our lives. They are consistent and unconditional in their time, attention and affection, qualities that may be missing in the lives of so many. Each story brings to life a connection - whether it be an exceptional dog offering friendship or a squeaky guinea pig excited for feed time, our importance in their lives feeds our self-worth. These heart-warming stories prove that this connection has the power to overcome all.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLegend Press
    Release dateApr 22, 2016
    ISBN9781785078231
    My Therapist and Other Animals

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      Book preview

      My Therapist and Other Animals - Rene Chorley

      Author

      Prologue

      As a child, I thought that Gerald Durrell was this magical person who lived on the magical island of Corfu, so far from the dry plains of my African home. I grew up in the southern part of Africa in the landlocked country of Zimbabwe (formally Zimbabwe-Rhodesia, formally Rhodesia, formally Southern Rhodesia), where I learned to love nature and life. My Family and Other Animals by Gerald Durrell, was my entertainment on the somewhat limited rainy days. Children’s TV in the 1970s was limited to half an hour a day of Spiderman (in black and white). The rest of the day was spent in the garden with my beloved dogs, Nandi and Chaka, along with dung beetles, ant lions and light green chameleons, which miraculously changed colour.

      My two older sisters were often dragged into my adventures, although their passion for all things creeping and crawling was not as refined as mine. I was the youngest of the three. Shann, the oldest, was and still is a terrible tease and once told me that the only reason we had pets was for food storage, thus to eat them. This caused me the loss of gallons of tears and she received a good telling off. Cecily was the girly-girl of the bunch, who loved doing hair and make-up and didn’t care much for my animal adventures.

      My mother was the boss in the home and kept us all in line. She taught me to try everything, to enjoy life and to love the wildlife of our homeland. My dad was the careless adventurer who caused my mother many worrying moments. On a night following some flash flooding, dad decided that we would drive through a flooded river rather than wait until morning. Crossing the bridge in the dark African night was not a smart idea, as water crept into the foot well of the car. Nevertheless, we made it, as we always did with dad.

      In Harare (formally Salisbury), we lived in Mabelreign, an area of big houses on the outskirts of the city. Our homes were surrounded by bush with a wild feeling about the place. Mauve Jacaranda Trees, orange Strelitzia and purple Bougainvillea coloured our lives. The area was hilly, which made my cycle ride to school a little challenging.

      It seemed that half the land was filled with frogs, ‘chongolols’ (millipede of some great size and pronounced chon-go-lo-lo) and large African Land Snails, who carried their crunchy home proudly with them. As we rode our bikes to school we had to navigate through an obstacle course of these creatures. They did tend to come out after the infrequent rain, and any cars going before us did not seem to consider the results they left behind for us poor cycling kids to miss the crushed, squished and splodged remains.

      Although our country was at war during my growing up years, it seemed that I had so much freedom. I went everywhere on my bike. To get to my best friend’s house I would cross a vlei and have to dismount over a small gully, which was about two feet deep and one foot across. At this point in the path there was a nest of red ants, and since I only ever wore sandals, I was a prime target. It was quite a skill to balance on the pedals of the bike and make a leap from the pedal to the other side without putting my feet on the ground with a bike to follow. The return trip was harder, and I often landed in the path of these jaw-gnashing little red beasts. The survival instinct for me meant speed and agility. I would land in their territory and climb aboard the bike with feet flailing in the hope that those ants – that had not yet embedded their jaws in my flesh – would fall off, and those who had would lose their heads. If their bodies came off, then they stopped biting, so I would just have to pull their heads out of my skin. A gruesome tale, which was painful for me, yet deadly for them.

      This was my world. A place of creatures, adventure and real life. My interest and love in all things that moved was established in this wonderful African place. However, the paradox for me was that not all children in my world had what I had. Leaving my home and travelling a short distance we would see the Shona children. They lived in mud huts and did not all go to school. They ran bare footed through the hot sand and made their toy cars from old wire fencing. Crossing the Limpopo River into South Africa on holiday we would be accosted by dirty, shoeless children begging for our empty soda bottles, as this would score them a few precious cents from the local store. There is an early memory of a small, dark-skinned girl sitting on the roadside with her mother weaving baskets. She had a dog – the ropiest dog you have ever seen – but they were friends. The dog lay protectively at her side and unmoving, an image that has stayed with me.

      Now married with my own children and grandchildren, life has thrown many challenges and pleasures. Bob, my wonderful life companion and our children Shane, Deon and Krystal, have all shared in the learning and experiences that have brought me to this point: the point where my two great passions meet.

      My two greatest loves in life – after my family of course – are animals and children. Children who come from hard places; hence this book and the Noah’s Ark Family Project, which is where we work with animals to help children recover from trauma. It is almost as if my love of life, animals and my desire to help others, has at last found its place. Animal Assisted Therapy is now my passion. The human/animal connection that is so powerful to me is the key to connecting: creating that attachment we all need to survive.

      The pages in this book illustrate a journey of an animal-filled life – where a connection has been made. Through this journey I have created a junction where my passions meet: helping children connect with life through creating a relationship using the unconditional gift of animals. My hope for you as you explore these pages is that you feel it. Feel the thrill and get the buzz of a connection being made with these kids as they learn what love is.

      The Attack

      It was a hot Zimbabwe day. All the windows and doors were open to allow even the smallest

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