Hi friends,
This is my first post on Substack. I am an artist and animal chaplain, mostly known in the animal rescue community (and beyond) for my Pit Bull Flower Power series of shelter dogs wearing flower crowns. I’m excited to share what led me to become an animal chaplain and why I believe our animal rescue community needs spiritual care. In the future I will be sharing stories and reflections about the intersection of animals, art, ecofeminism, and spiritual care.
By all measures, he was a tough guy. Strong, driven, outspoken.
He had built a rescue compound with his own hands, piece by piece, dollar by dollar. The property was well thought out. It was his dream, a haven for dogs in need and a resource for his community.
But in that moment, the man was tiny.
Nestled in my arms, crumbling, sobbing, his shoulders convulsing under the weight of his desperation.
“What am I going to do with all these dogs?” he begged.
At least half of his kennels were filled with unadoptable dogs others had dumped on him. Some dangerous, some feral. His rescue dream had been exploited, violated, and turned into a nightmare.
His beautiful rescue compound had become a dead end for unwanted, unplaceable dogs.
“People keep leaving these dogs with me,” he said. “How can I say no? I thought we would all work together. But nobody is helping me.”
I had heard versions of his story countless times before, in my years volunteering as a photographer and storyteller with rescues and shelters around the world. Everywhere, I witnessed the same pattern of abuse, abandon, and exploitation.
And I’m not only talking about the animals.
They, of course, carry the brunt of the abuse.
But so do their human caregivers.
Volunteers and rescuers are wrung dry until there’s not a drop left to give. They’re abandoned to their own devices, with no one tending to their emotional, physical, or mental health needs.
At least in some professions, workers can unionize, get healthcare, and access resources. (Not that they necessarily take advantage of those. It’s hard to put your needs first when your life revolves around others’ suffering.)
But volunteers and rescuers usually get nothing.
They’re used by a system that just wants to place dogs somewhere, anywhere. Sweeping lives under the rug. And making the most difficult dogs somebody else’s problem.
Every time this happened, a caregiver collapsing in my arms, I was at a loss for words.
Was it my own burnout? The compassion fatigue I didn’t yet recognize?
I was tired of seeing the hurt.
Tired of witnessing animals and their caregivers being run into the ground by a violent system claiming to “care” about saving lives.
Which lives, really? And what does “saving” actually mean when participants are themselves exposed to suffering all day?
And so in that moment, with that man, I had no words of encouragement. Nothing but an urgent plea:
“You need to get out of this.”
I carried that moment with me for years.
The shame of not finding the right words, not having the right tools.
The truth is, I had reached my limit.
How many more dogs could I watch trapped in cages, begging for release? How many more volunteers, rescues, shelter workers, veterinarians could I hold as they disintegrated?
I was just an artist. Just a photographer.
But somehow, I had become what I always was: a witness, a holder of pain. Maybe even a safe presence. I just didn’t yet have a name for it. Nor the tools.
One day, I attended a presentation on compassion fatigue by Jessica Dolce. During the talk, she asked us to turn to the person sitting next to us for an exercise.
I pivoted and met a warm woman with fiery hair and glasses. She exuded calm. Safety. Care.
Her name was Rev. Sarah Bowen.
I can’t remember the exercise. All I remember is sobbing uncontrollably. Sarah offered a few gentle words and a comforting presence. She gifted me her book, Sacred Send-offs, and suggested I look into a program she led for animal chaplains.
A few months later, I enrolled in the Compassion Consortium’s nine-month training to become an Animal Chaplain, and was ordained in the summer of 2024.
Through that journey, I found the answers, the support, and the community I had longed for.
I emerged transformed as a human being, an artist, and a member of the animal welfare world.
Before that, I often said: animal welfare is nothing without human welfare.
But like so many in the field, I mostly meant the pet guardians, the people who need help to care for their animals.
It took me years to realize that those who need the most care are the caregivers themselves: the rescuers, volunteers, shelter staff, veterinarians, vet techs, dog trainers, groomers… anyone whose hands tend to animals and their people.
They, we, all need spiritual care.
To me, spiritual care in the animal welfare community looks like:
spaces for grieving and processing
rituals and moments to reconnect with the meaning of our calling, our sense of purpose, and our hope
self-care that tends to the body, heart, and soul
and healthier, more compassionate communities of peer
We have to care for our own before we can care for the animals. You know… the oxygen mask first.
These days, I co-host a support group for shelter volunteers in Los Angeles County with my friend, grief coach and breathwork facilitator Katya Lidsky. Together we blend somatic work, grief work, and spiritual care.
We just celebrated our first anniversary. It’s been a beautiful, humbling journey, accompanying the volunteers, these brave hearts, as they face impossible intake numbers, painful euthanasia rates, and deeply frustrating policies.
Some are already feeling the difference that comes from having a space to grieve and heal together.
It’s my dream to grow this offering, so no one in this work has to collapse alone.
I still think of that man and his dogs.
I wish I could tell him we’re finally building what he needed back then: a place for his heart to rest and his soul to heal.
Maybe that’s what spiritual care really is.
If this story resonated with you, I’d love for you to subscribe. I’ll be sharing reflections on the intersection of animals, art, grief, ecofeminism, and spiritual care, and how we can build gentler systems for all beings.
Bless you, Sophie. I've been following you since a dog I was following in NY got adopted after his picture wearing a flower wreath on his beautiful head was featured. Bless you in this new endeavor. ❤️❤️❤️
Beautiful article Sophie! xo