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“What do you feel?” Red sat a few feet away, her arms wrapped around her shins as she watched quietly, from afar.
“Trauma.” The word popped out of its own will. Tabitha had actually been formulating how to reply, what Red might want to hear, how she could sound smart and clever, but her brain obviously had other ideas. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I mean—”
“Don’t apologize,” Red cut in. “You’re right. Candy has suffered quite a bit of trauma over the course of her life.”
Tabitha ran her hand along the dog’s haunches, then back up to her spine and over her rib cage. For now, she kept away from the swollen belly. “It wasn’t really a good guess on my part. Most of the dogs here have suffered trauma.”
“You didn’t guess, though,” Red protested. “Your response was reflexive, based on what went through her body and into yours. You felt her trauma. The body talks to you, Tabitha. Anybody can teach you the bony prominences and the muscular attachments and the neurology—and all of that is important. But no less important, and much harder to teach, is what you’re good at naturally. Sensing. Empathizing. Helping others release their trauma. I brought you here to prove it.”
Tabitha went to protest, but the truth was, she did feel Candy’s trauma. The rippling of the dog’s muscles, beneath her hand, was barely discernible. The trauma came up out of the dog in micro-tremors that made Tabitha’s palm vibrate just slightly. If she weren’t paying attention, or if she were touching the dog too deeply or in a hurry, she would miss it entirely.
“The good thing about dogs is that they don’t typically hang on to their trauma as hard as humans do. They’re quite happy to let you help them ease their pain. Humans fight it, tooth and nail. If you want to visit Candy a couple times a week until she gives birth, I’ll sign off on your massage form,” Red said.
“Wow, really?” Tabitha knew that Constance was referring to the sheet where she had to list all her outside massages and collect signatures from the recipients as proof of her practical work.
Red cocked her head to the side and smiled. “Really.” She rose, slowly and carefully, but Candy didn’t move. “I’m going to go back out and help Sunny. You just hang here with Candy and follow your instincts.”
Red disappeared and Tabitha spent the next half hour quietly easing into some kind of massage for the pregnant mama dog. As she just barely palpated some of her muscles, Tabitha recalled the illustrations in one of her textbooks that outlined the differences of the location of dog muscles versus humans. She could picture the little beagle in the book and the arrows pointing to his serratus anterior. Tabitha wasn’t going to massage those today, but maybe next time. By the time Sunny popped in, smelling woodsy and smoky, like the outdoors in autumn, Tabitha had been able to work her way to Candy’s foot pads and give them all little depressions with her thumb.
“Wow,” Sunny said, her cheeks pink and eyes bright with the cold. “I don’t know if I’m more impressed that Candy is letting you massage her or that my sister is letting you massage Candy.” Sunny put the back of her hand next to her mouth, even though Red was nowhere within earshot, and hissed, “Cici is pretty possessive of her dog massages.”
“I’m not surprised. This is very rewarding.” Tabitha was pleased at how much Candy had calmed down with thirty minutes of selective, gentle massage. What she hadn’t expected was how relaxed her own body felt.Massage is a two-way street, Red was fond of saying.It’s not fifty-fifty, but energy is shared. Good or bad, you’ll share whatever you bring to the table. On the flip side, you also have to be careful what you take in from your clients.
Today, at least, Tabitha had managed to ease Candy’s trauma and not share any of her own. She’d come in here feeling peaceful and relaxed, and that had transferred to Candy with slow persuasion.
“I knew it,” Red said, when she appeared a moment later. Fezziwig, her three-legged pit bull, was hopping by her side. Her face spread into a slow smile. “You’re a natural with those who’ve suffered from trauma.”
“Maybe.” Tabitha finished her gentle rocking of Candy and rose slowly to her feet. “It’s only one dog. Maybe I got lucky.”
“I don’t believe in luck.”
“I do,” Sunny countered. “But not this time. Cici’s right. You’ve got the magic touch.”
By the time she collected Trinity and headed for the gym, Tabitha felt better about herself than she had in a long time.
Maybe she could do this massage thing after all. At least with animals.
Only time would tell with humans.
