GREENER PASTURES: The Importance of Trust

I remember being asked by a student doing a middle school project to define the word “trust.” In response, I said that “trust is the willingness to risk being vulnerable to another without the fear of being hurt.” When you trust another you believe with your heart as well as your head that the other is not out to hurt you. Quite the opposite: your trust convinces you that your well-being is as important to the other as it is to you.

We humans are animals. We can learn much about trust from our pets. We know right away whether our pets trust us, simply by their reaction when we reach out to them. I have been blessed with my share of dogs and cats. From the beginning on, I took much time to develop trust, which required real consistency with the quality of my touch and tone of voice. This is no different or less important than what is required to develop trust in human relationships.

Trust begins with touch, with the hands. My pets trusted my hands, because my hands always and only came in friendship, came stroking not choking, calming not critical.

If my hands had not been consistent, my pets would have sought to avoid them. Even if I had been mostly gentle and kind in my stroking, should I have even once in a while happened to squeeze too hard, hurt or hinder them, they would have quickly ceased to trust me. Though trust may take a long time to build, it can be quickly decimated by even a single severing stroke.

Human hands are so important to animals. They are major communicators, along with tone of voice, of caring. I remember reading Jack London’s great dog story, Call of the Wild as a youth. In it, London describes a safe stance to take if a dog is threatening to attack you. He said to stand absolutely motionless, bending over with both hands together, turned up with palms open. He said not to look at the dog threatening you, but only at your open, empty hands. He claimed that a dog will not attack you – unless it is crazed or sick – because you are showing that you have no weapon, that you come in peace, and that you risk the vulnerability of open hands.

I had the unfortunate opportunity to test out London’s prescription for avoiding attack one summer during my college years. I was reading water meters in Florida and happened onto an estate, and as I prepared to read the meter buried beneath the front lawn, two large and fearsome German police dogs showed up and charged me in seeming full attack. I immediately dropped my book and assumed the position London had described. The dogs turned off their attack; they stopped and while growling smelled my hands; then they circled me shark-like, barking, waiting for me to dare to move.

I stood there motionless for what seemed an eternity, until the dogs’ master finally showed up. He apologized, but I was too numb to say much. I was just glad to be alive, glad to have my flesh intact.

Trust begins with the hands, with touch, including the sound-touch of your voice. Touch can connect us directly, so that caring can be transferred, felt. Tone of voice can also connect us, also transfer caring. Trust is all about consistency in caring, reliability, touch, and tone. The hands have it.