The Road to Healing: How My Dog Elliot Saved My Life

Warning: This story contains content about suicide. If you or a loved one is contemplating self-harm, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255. After July 16, 2022, anyone in the US will be able to access the lifeline by dialing 988. 

Elliot. photo: Scott Stauffer

My name is Scott Stauffer. I want to share my story of Elliot, who became my service dog for PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) and how he saved my life. 

I was diagnosed not only with PTSD, but also with anger management issues and, for too long, I let those two diagnoses rule my life. I felt I deserved to live on the streets, couch surfing, or car sleeping when I could afford a car, and not having a stable income or home. I didn’t care for myself, and I couldn’t figure out how to fit into society.

But I could still care for another - in this case, a Pit/Lab mix named Elliot, bought from a kid outside a Walmart for $10. 

One day, at a very low point, I was driving along the highway looking for a safe place to sleep. I was hurting too much from my failures and from not getting the emotional help I needed in my life. I decided I would speed up and over the exit ramp. Just fly and hope it would be the end when I landed. 

I was looking for traffic in my rearview mirror when Elliot popped his head up and looked right at me, making eye contact with me in the mirror. Now, the beauty of making eye contact is that it releases the hormone oxytocin in both parties, which brain researchers say has the power to regulate our emotional and pro-social responses. 

With Elliot’s gaze on me, I wasn’t feeling so confident about my flying exit plan any more. I pulled over, got into the back seat, and sat right next to my dog. He licked my face calmly, and I broke down into tears. He laid his head on my lap, and I lost it even more. Slowly and almost subconsciously, I began to pet his head. 

Touch between two trusted sources also helps the brain release oxytocin as well as endogenous opioids that aid our bodies in controlling pain. The same touch can also increase the flow of serotonin, letting you somewhat enjoy the moment even while in deep emotional pain. Which I did. Not in a super happy way, but in a way that helped me feel like maybe I did belong somewhere. 

Elliot and I fell asleep for a couple of hours on the side of the road. When I woke up, I realized I needed help, but I couldn't afford much, and it was 3 am. The only person I knew I could call? One of my exotic dancer friends. She graciously allowed us to stay with her, letting me cry and sleep until I felt  better. No judgment came from my dog or my friend; they just helped me feel wanted again. 

When we feel sad, unheard, and unwanted, that's emotional pain. It’s there for a reason: to tell us to get help. That acute pain isn't supposed to be permanent. Like a cut, emotional pain needs healing. But most of us will ask for help only in ways that feel safe to us. If it doesn't happen, we can act out.

Pals hanging out in the water. photo: courtesy Scott Stauffer

From that day on, I realized Elliot knew more about my emotions and body language than I might have been willing to admit. I couldn't hide my emotional pain from him. Often, we would just sit and hangout, feeling better together so we could continue living everyday. Was it easy? No. But together, it could be easier. 

While Elliot has since crossed the Rainbow Bridge, our connection continues in my work with dogs and people. Understanding that each of us needs to feel heard, acknowledged, and wanted in a way we understand has kept me going to this day. 

While we never know what another individual is going through, we can stop and listen. We can recognize that every individual has some sort of emotional pain and that going through it is important to healing. 

Elliot and I recognized this in each other. We bonded. We could rely on each other for emotional support and emotional safety. I could be emotionally vulnerable with him and he was emotionally available. Always. And the opposite was also true. I was there for Elliot when he needed me.

I was able to watch Elliot help others as well. I heard their stories as he helped them through their pain–not always to heal it but enough for them to feel emotionally safe. I see this with dogs and people a lot. They are more likely to try to heal themselves with us, as we are with them. Together, we are better. 

Affective neuroscience is now beginning to validate what indigenous communities have long known about relationships. We are social creatures, and modern brain research tells us we need each other to heal. Neurocircuitry and neurochemicals let us know when we should reach out for help. When this need goes unmet, we have behavioral problems, or worse. 

Panic, grief, and sadness serve a purpose. It’s so we can ask for help and receive care. Elliot knew this even when I was past recognizing it. 

Today, because of Elliot, I am a K9 Life Coach. I help others with their dogs to be safe emotionally and to start down the hard road to healing. Together.