by Sasha Riess | 09.04.26. | Emotions
The inspiration for this column came one afternoon while sitting in a café, witnessing a scene that exposed the cruelty and hypocrisy of our system. Rescuing dogs and understanding their nature often reveals how far we are from true empathy — and how deeply dogs and human childhood trauma can intertwine through shared, unhealed pain.
Invisible Discrimination Against Dogs
A young woman entered quietly with her dog—a strong, muscular breed, perhaps a Staffordshire Terrier or a Pit Bull. The dog made no noise, reacted to no one, and just rested his head on her leg. Despite this, a waiter asked them to leave because guests „didn’t feel safe.“ Meanwhile, a barking, lunging Pomeranian on the other side of the café was met with laughter and pictures.
So what was truly dangerous in that scene? The dog — or our perception of what danger looks like?
A look that shatters prejudices—a dog is not genetic evil, but a reflection of human misunderstanding.
The Myth of “Dangerous Breeds”
Dr. Karen Overall, a veterinary behaviorist, analyzed 15,000 cases of dog bites. The results were striking:
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84% of bites were caused by dogs that had never shown aggression before.
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67% of bites came from dogs under 20 kg.
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Pit Bulls, Dobermans, and Rottweilers together accounted for less than 12% of all incidents.
Rescuing dogs unfairly labeled as “dangerous” is therefore not just an act of kindness — it’s a moral stance.
The Roots of Eugenics and the Idea of a “Pure Breed”
Banning specific breeds isn’t about safety — it’s an admission of ignorance. When we don’t know how to educate owners, we ban dogs. The list of “dangerous breeds” is a symptom of a society still echoing the ideology of eugenics. Rescuing dogs in this context is truly a fight for the freedom of all living beings.
Aggression Is Not Inborn — It’s a Consequence
Aggression is not a trait, nor a disorder — it’s a consequence. Dr. Jaak Panksepp discovered that aggression in mammals is triggered when there’s a perceived threat and no alternative escape. Dogs don’t fight because they’re “evil” — they fight because they see no other way out. In many cases, canine aggression mirrors unresolved trauma from the human owner.
The Emotional Field and Inner Healing
Our emotions create an energetic field that dogs can sense. Dr. Rollin McCraty proved that the heart emits a field 60 times stronger than the brain. That’s why true dog rescue doesn’t begin in shelters — it begins within us. When we heal our own pain, the dog no longer has to carry it.
The Dog as a Mirror of Society
Aggression is everywhere — in wars, on streets, in homes. But when it surfaces, we project it outward onto others, or onto dogs. A dog that growls is often not the problem — but the only one who can no longer stay silent.
The Path of Change — The Philosophy of Pure Love and Harmony
Rescuing dogs and rebuilding trust begins through four steps:
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Recognition – instead of labeling, ask: “What is the dog trying to tell me?”
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Responsibility – take ownership of your own energy.
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Transformation – by changing ourselves, we transform the dog’s space.
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Harmony – build relationships through understanding, not control.
Understanding instead of judgment – a shared path toward shattering the myth of genetic evil.
Saving Dogs as a Mirror of Human Awareness
If we want real change, we don’t need to change dogs — we need to change ourselves. Rescuing dogs is a symbol of rescuing empathy, awareness, and love in a world that fears difference. A dog is not a reflection of genetic evil — but of our collective pain and our capacity to heal. This is the foundation of the human dog relationship.
At Integrative and Holistic Grooming Education, we believe that no breed is born with a label. We look past the muzzle to find the soul. Join us in transforming the way the world sees dogs: Linktree Sasha Riess
by Sasha Riess | 03.04.26. | Emotions
I once believed that rescuing dogs was the purest act of love. I watched people who fed dozens of dogs, slept among them, gave up everything for them — and I thought: this is devotion, this is goodness. But over time, after observing, listening, and questioning myself, I began to wonder: Who is really saving whom? Within the human dog relationship, is taking in one more dog into an overcrowded yard truly love — or is it my own cry for something I never received? Is it an attempt to prove my worth in a world that often failed to see me?
The Order of Love and Harmony in Rescue
I came to understand that love isn’t just emotion or impulse — it has order. Among humans it’s called The Order of Love. With dogs, it becomes The Order of Harmony. These cosmic laws never punish — they simply restore balance. Every time we cross a boundary, something is taken in return. When love exceeds its natural limits, it becomes obsession, control, compensation — disease. And I too was part of that system, believing I was doing good, unaware that every excess in rescuing dogs can consume both the rescuer and the rescued.
The Trap of the Donation System
Like many involved in rescue, I’ve seen how survival often depends on donations — heartbreaking photos, videos of wounded dogs, public calls for help. It becomes a kind of currency — the currency of survival. But this system quickly turns into a vicious circle. There’s never enough — not for the dogs already there, nor for the new mouths arriving each day. Food becomes the cheapest kibble, often expired, or cans made from scraps — what couldn’t be sold becomes “charity.” Dogs in such systems don’t live — they merely survive, stripped of dignity.
Behind every rescue post lies a daily struggle for food, health, and the survival of the dogs.
What a Dog Really Needs to Be Happy
A dog needs more than food and water. His well-being depends on safety, structure, social interaction, and love — not sentimental love, but practical, daily presence. But how can one person provide that for thirty, forty, or fifty dogs? In such conditions, a dog stops being a being. He becomes a number, a function, a projection. Unconsciously, he turns into a symbol of what we lack. When the number of dogs surpasses the depth of connection, love disappears — chaos remains.
The Message Behind Every Dog
Still, I believe each dog arrives for a reason. Even in the midst of chaos, each one carries a message — a fragment of the caretaker’s unspoken story. Over the years, I’ve met people rescuing dogs with genuine hearts and noble intentions. I once shared that belief completely. But now I see that behind every “one more dog” there is often something deeper — something not about the dogs, but about us.
The Glorification of Rescue and Its Burden
What struck me most is how society glorifies this kind of sacrifice. On social media, rescuing dogs earns applause, likes, and admiration. Young people, inspired by the idea of selfless devotion, enter this world without the tools to withstand it. I’ve watched them lose their health, their identity — sometimes even their lives. At first glance, they are heroes — people who give up peace, money, and relationships for dogs. And I wanted to be one of them. But through the Order of Harmony, I’ve learned that behind every excess lies a deficit. Behind every dog, there is often a person who has lost a piece of themselves.
The Dog as a Reflection of Our Emptiness
The principle of respect teaches us that every being has its own purpose and essence. A dog is a creature with dignity — needing space, rhythm, and clarity. When I unconsciously turn him into a symbol of my emptiness, I stop seeing him as a dog. He becomes a mirror of my need. And the dog, in his unconditional love, often accepts that role — even to his own detriment. I’ve seen people surrounded by dogs while their bodies collapse, their relationships fade, their lives revolve only around rescue. I’ve been close to that edge myself, until I stopped and asked: What am I really doing?
A dog often becomes a mirror of our internal wounds and the silences we carry within ourselves.
Who Are We Really Saving — Them or Ourselves?
Through conversations, silence, and self-reflection, I began to see: Dogs often become substitutes for something else — for love I never received, for grief I never mourned, for a part of myself I never accepted. Each dog can unconsciously become a symbol of something lost that I’m trying to reclaim. But the system always seeks balance — not as punishment, but as consequence. So I started asking myself: Whom am I really saving? What am I trying to find through one more rescue?
The Dog as a Call — Not an Answer
I realized that a dog is not the answer. A dog is a call — a call to return to order, to be present, clear, and consistent. A call to recognize the line between genuine love and the unconscious need to patch my own unrest. Only when I see the dog as a dog — not as a projection of my wounds — can I truly love him. Only then can I honor his dignity, his needs, his life.
Stopping Out of Respect
Before taking in another dog, I now pause — not out of fear, but out of respect. Maybe that dog didn’t come to stay. Maybe he came to show me what in me still needs to be seen. And perhaps, when I learn to say “enough,” I’ll finally find what I was searching for all along — peace with myself, my own wholeness. So before I rescue another dog, I ask: Am I ready to rescue myself first?
At Integrative and Holistic Grooming Education, we believe that precision in our actions is a reflection of our internal balance. When we lead with harmony, we heal the soul. Explore our philosophy: Linktree Sasha Riess
