The Healing Power of Dogs for People Living With HIV

The loneliness wrought by COVID-19 led to a surge in dog adoptions across the country. But even before the pandemic changed everyone’s daily routines, many people living with HIV came to know the benefits of caring for man’s best friend. Pets often bring warmth and joy into their owners’ lives, but for some people living with HIV, the unconditional love of a dog provided something even more meaningful: a sense of renewed hope amid an ongoing epidemic.

When Dogs Heal, a new pictorial essay anthology, explores the prevalence of dog ownership among people living with HIV, along with deeply personal testimonies about how dogs changed the lives of their humans.

“At the root of each story is triumph, and love that came in the form of a dog,” co-author Rob Garofalo tells them. “There's just something about their eyes, their energy, and the pureness of their soul that I think really helps them connect with humans. Whether it's a child or someone who's elderly, or someone living with HIV... I think they really are magical sources of connection.”

The concept for When Dogs Heal is based on Garofalo’s story of adopting Fred during one of the bleakest moments of his life. Months before adopting Fred as a puppy, Garofalo tested positive after surviving a sexual assault. Welcoming the dog into his home helped Garofalo, a doctor and adolescent HIV+ specialist, navigate the resulting trauma.

As Garofalo wrote in the book, an HIV diagnosis is still linked to shame, which can breed isolation. But in his story, and those of others, dogs didn’t allow their owners to stay isolated for long. Instead, they called on their humans to get out of the dark and demanded engagement with the world.

“[Fred] brought back peace and joy to a world where I thought those two things were likely gone forever,” Garofalo tells them. “I always say that when I've got one foot on the ledge, Fred is the thing that pulls me back inside. I’m looking at him right now and there's no question that, without him, not only would this book not have happened but I certainly wouldn't be here.”

The book features intimate portraits, captured by photographer Jesse Freidin, that feature each storyteller with their dog. A few participants hold a photograph of a dearly-departed canine and share memories of what they learned from their dog’s life. Christina Garafolo, a co-author and Rob’s niece, collaborated with many of the subjects to put their feelings into words.

Their evocative and inspiring stories share common threads. These include the importance of mental health, the process of recovering from addiction, the ways LGBTQ+ people form their own chosen families, and the meaning of being at home, both in one’s body and in one’s living space.

To write When Dogs Heal, the co-authors traveled the country looking for people who shared a common experience of dog adoption following a positive HIV diagnosis. As one method, the team used filters on LGBTQ+ dating apps to find people living with HIV who had a personal story of how dogs had changed their lives.

Co-author and journalist Zach Stafford noted that many of the participants had never talked publicly about living with HIV, nor had they thought about the connection between their HIV diagnosis and the decision to welcome a dog (or multiple dogs) into their home. Garafolo began building trust with them by openly discussing his own journey and, over time, the subjects felt more comfortable sharing their stories as well.

“For many people, [dogs] represent pure love and a devotion that is really unshakable,” Stafford tells them. “Most people that own dogs can talk about how, when they come home from their day, the dog jumps on them, and just loves them. It doesn’t judge them.”

The authors were especially moved by the story of Lisa Cruz and her dog, Mimi, which demonstrated how dogs can create an affirming home environment. Cruz, a Latina trans woman who now works in LGBTQ+ social services, contracted HIV in the 1980s after moving to New York City as part of a traveling drag revue. She relocated to Chicago after 10 years in New York, by which time she’d already witnessed several friends pass away due to virus complications or lost them to violence.

“When I tested positive, I wasn’t in shock,” Cruz notes in her essay. “It was the eighties and HIV was everywhere, but I really didn’t expect it to happen to me. It’s not that I wasn’t afraid, but I don’t anticipate the worst. I thought, If I have to live with this virus, then I will. If at some point that means I’ll endure pain or disadvantage, I will face it. One foot in front of the other — that’s how I managed to survive as a kid living on my own.”

At work, Cruz helped fellow members of the LGBTQ+ community have a better quality of life, but at home her dogs became a source of emotional support as she coped with her own diagnosis. She adopted Mimi soon after the unexpected passing of her first dog, Yunya.

“I don’t mingle much,” Cruz tells them. as Mimi sits beside her. “As a transgender woman, one of my biggest fears is rejection, so I keep myself to myself most of the time. Mimi has been with me through my worst times. She knows when I'm sad, and when I’m crying she comes in, and lays next to me like, ‘I’m here mom. Don’t worry. You’re not alone.’”

Garofalo hopes that When Dogs Heal will encourage people to understand the humanity behind each one of the book’s subjects and to extend that empathy in turn to everyone living with HIV. A portion of the book’s proceeds will go to the nonprofit Fred Says, an organization founded by Garofalo, which is dedicated to financially supporting HIV+ teen health care.

“No one in this book should be defined by an HIV diagnosis, and I hope that people connect with these participants, these stories, and these images in a way that breaks down a lot of the stigma that too often surrounds this virus,” Garofalo says. “I hope people out there who may be struggling, who have thought about the potential benefits that they might reap from a pet or a dog, might see themselves in some of these stories, do something unconventional and adopt a dog, or get the help that they need.”

“If that happens for one person out there with HIV,” he adds, “then we’ve done our job.”

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