Herself’s friend mentioned that empathy is about more than just feeling sorry for someone. It’s about really putting yourself in someone else’s shoes (or paws, in my case), understanding what they’re going through, and ‘being there for them in a way that makes them feel less alone.’ My first thought was “where is ‘there,’ then, versus ‘here’?” Does it mean you have to be in another room? Another house? Car? What? But as they talked, I sort of got it which got me thinking about the times I’ve been there for Herself, without even realizing I was doing this ‘empathy’
thing.
Like the time Herself came home from one of those long days where everything seemed to go wrong. I could tell something was off the moment she walked through the door. Her shoulders were slumped, and there was a heavy sigh that escaped her lips before she even took off her coat.
I didn’t know the details, of course – I’m not exactly privy to the human world’s intricacies – but I could sense that she was upset.
So, I did what any good dog would do. I trotted over, pressed my nose against her leg, and looked up at her with what I hoped was my most comforting expression. She didn’t say anything at first, just knelt down and wrapped her arms around me. We stayed like that for a while, with me sitting quietly, letting her hold on as long as she needed to. I didn’t have to know what had gone wrong that day. All that mattered was that she wasn’t alone, that I was there with her, offering the kind of wordless support that dogs are so good at giving.
Maybe that’s what empathy is all about – just being there, being present with someone when they need you. Not trying to fix everything, not offering advice or solutions, just being a calm and steady presence in a world that can sometimes feel overwhelming. And so ‘there’ isn’t about
not being ‘here.’ It is more like being in the person’s presence, with an attitude that they find comforting.
But then, I started thinking about how empathy might have evolved. You see, I’ve heard Herself talk about how humans and dogs have been together for thousands of years. She’s told stories about how my ancestors, the wolves, started hanging around human camps, slowly forming a bond that would eventually lead to the domesticated dogs you see today. Over time, we dogs
learned to understand humans in ways that no other animal could. Certainly not those self-seeking cats who also claim special status in the lives of humans.
We picked up on their emotions, their moods, and their needs. And in return, humans learned to read us too – our body language, our barks, our wagging tails.
It makes sense, really. Empathy probably evolved as a survival tool. In the wild, wolves needed to work together as a pack to hunt and survive. They had to understand each other, to anticipate each other’s moves, and to support one another. Those early wolves that could sense when another member of the pack was injured or stressed were likely more successful because they could help their packmates recover and stay strong. And as we became closer to humans, that same sense of empathy extended to them. We learned to read their emotions, to offer comfort when they were sad, to celebrate with them when they were happy.
In fact, I recall Herself once talking about how a female wolf would take over feeding the pups whose mom had died or disappeared. By contrast with African hyaenas, where the pups would just starve alone, because no-one else cares. (Those thoughts from Herself. I’ve seen hyaenas on TV and heard their creepy cackles, but they look nothing like us so I’m not sure why that’s even relevant.)
Humans, on the other hand, have a more complicated relationship with empathy. They’ve built societies, cities, and entire civilizations where they interact with countless other people every day. Sometimes, they’re incredibly good at understanding and supporting each other, but other times, it seems like they’ve lost that connection. Herself’s friend was right – some people do need to relearn empathy, or maybe learn it for the first time. They’ve gotten so caught up in their busy lives that they’ve forgotten how important it is to really connect with others, to offer that kind of support that goes beyond words.
As for me, well, I think dogs like us have a vital role to play in reminding humans what empathy looks like. We don’t need fancy words or deep conversations to show we care. Sometimes, all it takes is a wag of the tail, a gentle nudge, direct eye contact from beneath bushy brows, or just sitting quietly beside someone who needs us. We’re good at being present, at living in the moment, and maybe that’s why humans find so much comfort in our company.
So, if Herself decides to take me to visit that old lady, I think I’ll be okay. I’ll just do what I’ve always done – be there, be present, and let her know she’s not alone. And who knows, maybe in doing that, I’ll be teaching Herself a thing or two about empathy as well. I just hope there is no
thunder while we visit because then I’ll just jump out of my skin and run away if I can.
But so, it seems to me, in the end, empathy isn’t about grand gestures or knowing exactly what
to say. It’s about understanding, feeling a connection with the other person’s feelings, and making your presence felt, without being pushy or needy yourself. A critical point Herself made to her friend is that giving advice doesn’t fit with empathy. The person doesn’t need to be told what to feel or do, they just need to feel that you understand and support them.