A Paw-sitive Influence: How Pets Bolster Human Mental Health and Well-Being

Stepping out of today's fast-paced and often stressful world can seem impossible — that is, without a furry companion. While we feed, house, and walk our pets, the unconditional love, companionship, and support they give us in return has profound benefits for human mental health and well-being. This blog post highlights how pets uplift our overall happiness and emotional resilience to create a lasting paw-sitive influence on our lives.

1. Pets reduce stress: Have you ever noticed how calm you feel after petting a dog or cat? It’s no coincidence. Studies show that interacting with pets can help lower blood pressure and alleviate feelings of anxiety and tension by triggering the release of feel-good hormones like oxytocin, serotonin, and dopamine. Whether it's cuddling with a cat, playing fetch with a dog, or watching fish loop through coral, spending time with pets provides a welcome respite from the demands of daily life.

2. Pets expand our social circles: Pets are wonderful companions, offering unwavering love and comfort to their human counterparts. Their presence alone can reduce feelings of loneliness and depression, but they also create opportunities for human interactions. Whether it's striking up a conversation with fellow dog owners at the park or bonding with coworkers over puppy photos, pets help foster a sense of community.

3. Pets get you off the couch: There’s no workout regimen like chasing down a loose dog. But even when dogs are trained, they promote regular physical activity by providing motivation and companionship on walks, jog, and hikes. By getting their owners outside, pets help their humans make a routine of spending time in nature and taking daily movement, both of which are linked to reduced stress and improved mood. Unlike a New Years resolution, pets hold us accountable to our mental and physical health goals.

4. Pets are great listeners: Pets have remarkable intuition and empathy, which provides emotional support during adversity and distress. Whether it's coping with the loss of a loved one, navigating a life transition, or dealing with a mental health condition, pets offer a non-judgmental presence and unconditional love. Their silent yet powerful support helps alleviate sadness, anxiety, and loneliness, giving us a sense of purpose and meaning to help us muster resilience in the face of adversity.

5. Taking care of a pet takes care of you: Even on our least motivated days, pets hold us accountable to maintain our routines. Caring for a pet comes with a rewarding sense of purpose and responsibility. The daily tasks of feeding, grooming, and providing affection to our pets help us establish structure in our lives. Being in charge of a pet’s well-being reminds us how compassion, empathy, and unconditional love color our interactions.

Pets have undeniable benefits on human mental health and well-being. From reducing stress and promoting relaxation to providing companionship and emotional support, our furry friends enrich our days with their mere existence. When we nurture the bonds we share with our pets, we cultivate relationships built on love, trust, and understanding — the building blocks for mental health and emotional resilience.

—Lindsey Bynam

Helene and Stanley

When Helene caught Steve feeding squirrels,

she knew it was time to get another dog.

Family portraits capture the spirit of a family. Whether that be the frenzy of excited children tumbling over each other or just one person and their pet, photographs celebrate our deep bonds. We feel a special sense of love when we preserve these connections. Photos can become wall displays, mantle enhancements, or in the case of Helene Shapiro and her husband Steve Bartlebaugh, a meaningful addition to a room in an Alzheimer’s memory clinic.

Helene Shapiro recently had pet-inclusive portraits done with her golden retriever, Stanley. Three of these photos hang in Steve’s room in the memory clinic where he lives, uniting the family when it cannot be together and highlighting Stanley’s role as a beloved and important member of the family. Read Helene’s story here:

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photo by David Sutton

When Helene Shapiro caught her husband, Steve Bartlebaugh, feeding squirrels, she knew it was time to get another dog.

In 2016, Steve was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease, a form of dementia that erodes memory and thinking skills, so Helene took her time finding the right “fit” for their family of two. But Stanley, a 75-pound golden retriever, made the decision for them.

“Stanley was Steve’s person,” Helene said. The 18-month-old pup plopped next to Steve at the breeder the first time they met in 2019.

The couple’s previous terrier mix, Dempsey, had been Steve’s “everything”. The two shared slow walks, and Helene and Steve fretted over Dempsey as though he were their child. Since the couple does not have kids, the 40-pound hound completed their family. Dempsey died around age 14, two years after Steve’s diagnosis.

Caring for a pet can help people with dementia find companionship, support, and a sense of purpose, according to the Alzheimer’s Society. A 2021 study published in the Journal of Alzheimer’s Disease found a link between pet ownership and positive effects on daily life functions and mood, and slower disease progression.

Helene and Steve got Stanley a year after losing Dempsey, and the chocolate-eyed pooch soon took to following Steve around.

All plans to keep “Stan the man” off the furniture were dashed the night of his arrival, when a photo that is now on Steve’s Facebook page captures the two asleep in a chair. It is the first picture of them together.

“Stanley just sat in front of him and looked at him with such love,” Helene said.

When Steve moved to the memory clinic two years ago, Stanley began trailing Helene around the house, even curling up like a cat on her head—except after she got neck surgery last February, when he knew to be gentle.

Stanley’s understanding of Helene shone through recently when she had a particularly difficult night. He sat on her feet, rooting her to the ground, and looked into her eyes.

“I don’t think I could’ve gotten through the last three years without him,” Helene said.

When Helene and Stanley visit the memory clinic, the gentle giant leaps onto Steve’s bed and greets the other patients.

Neighborhood children run to Stanley on walks to stroke his reddish-gold fur—a color that featured prominently on cards the kids made for Steve’s 60th birthday. In this way, Stanley has helped Helene and Steve’s community.

“Sometimes dogs are better than people,” Helene said. “They don’t judge you, and they just want love.”

—Lindsey Bynam

For Zane!

I had not meant to become a dog photographer.

Then one day, trudging against the undertow of a relationship's recent end, I met an eight-week-old Border Collie/Cattledog cross. I took him home, named him Zane!, and things began to shift. Important things. His presence in my life and my commitment to his care set the stage for a series of developments I could not have predicted.

On our second day together, puppy Zane! stepped off a curb and into a street. A non-event, really. But, in that instant of imagining the tragic possibilities, I realized my life had changed. I was responsible for someone. I also became conscious of the certainty that I would outlive my dog. I promised him on the spot that I would be there for him at his life's end to ease his crossing.

Zane! spent most of his waking hours anticipating our next trip to the park, a twice-daily ritual in which he gleefully demonstrated his athletic prowess and stamina by running down racquet balls or snatching Frisbees out of the air.

If we had company at the park, Zane! would take a couple of tosses from me, but on the fourth or fifth throw he'd bring the Frisbee or ball back and drop it on the feet of the spectator. Zane! thought everyone should play.

On several occasions I watched him launch himself up after a hovering disk, reach what had to have been the apex of his jump, and then in response to an updraft that took the Frisbee just out of his reach, stretch up another six inches to snag it. What a sight! Watching him perform was truly one of my greatest joys.

They say that you attract what you hold in your thoughts. If that's true, then Zane! must have thought constantly about tennis balls.

Out for a walk, sometimes he'd stop dead in his tracks, focused on a hedge (or a snow bank or a pile of leaves). He'd look at me, then he'd look back at the hedge. I'd give his leash a little slack and he'd push his snout in, sometimes diving in almost to his tail. He'd come back out, tail wagging, with a tennis ball in his mouth.

At first I didn't know how he found them. Then I thought he must have been picking up on the tennis ball scent. I finally conceded that Zane! manifested tennis balls into existence through sheer mental focus. In twelve years I never bought a tennis ball, but we had dozens of them, each ball a grubby, green testimony to his powers.

One night when Zane! was twelve and our daughter was three we got an urgent call from our babysitter - our daughter was hurt. We rushed home.

Feeling bubbly, our little girl had come from behind to give Zane! a hug. Startled, he gave her a bark and a slap with his snout. He did not bite her, but his canine method of discipline wasn't suited to the delicate skin of our three-year-old's face. The wound was small but deep - and significant.

It took me a day or two, but I finally arrived at the gut-wrenching conclusion that I could not be certain an accident like this would not happen again, and that for my daughter's safety, Zane! would have to go.

I called a friend who had always adored him. She quickly agreed to make Zane! her dog, and within the hour, before I could second guess myself, I was driving Zane! into exile.

Zane! had a better life at my friend's house, a better deal all around. I honestly believe this, and not just because I have to. Zane! no longer had to commute with me, nor spend his days being shushed and scolded when other dogs came to the studio to have their pictures taken. He had a wonderful new dog companion named William. He spent his summer days lying in a rose garden, his winters being spoiled indoors.

Last month, on the first of June, I got a phone call from my friend. Zane! had died. My family and I had lost our dog a second time.

I tell myself that in placing Zane! in the loving care of a friend who adored him, I was there for him at the end, that I kept the promise I made to him. Still, sometimes it's difficult to convince myself that I did not let him down.

Well into the thirteenth year of a rich and varied career (the one I had not meant to have), I can look over the many wonderful developments I could not have predicted and squarely say that it all started with a little black dog.

Thanks, Bud.