I was six years old when Maszat came into my life. She was my first dog. She was a little girl dachshund. She played a big part in my decision to spend almost a decade rehabilitating dogs.
Once, during an interview, a journalist asked me where my strength came from. She said that she felt a special energy coming from me that was both calm and sad, yet also full of leadership. Unfortunately, I was not ready to answer her honestly at that time. I had spent more than four decades in a country whose apathetic and corrupt society expected me to put up with everything, to not name the abuse of the system or individuals, to not ask for help, and to not reflect on how toxic it all was. But I choose to do so. I make my voice heard.
As a child, I couldn't protect Maszat from my mother's and grandmother's abuses. I couldn't save myself either. Sometimes, for Easter, I received live animals: a rabbit and chickens. It was crazy because we lived in a tiny flat. I had to cope with losing them. No matter how much I cried no one cared. I knew they had eaten them. Animals died because of my mother, and she beat some of them. I decided that I want to help at least that many animals in my lifetime. That's why I became a dog behavior therapist. And not too surprisingly, I am a vegetarian.
It took me a long time to learn that it's okay to cry when I'm expressing my pain or fear. It's okay to be insecure. It's okay if I'm not giving it my all. It's okay to change. It's okay to set boundaries with people and cut off contact with them. Most of all, it's okay to speak up about what other people thought was okay to do!
I did a sketch of this picture a few years ago. This year, I finished it. The floating colored dots and circles around the dachshund represent a kind of miracle or protective cover, in my interpretation. What does it mean to you?