Second of two parts

Diann Wears first met her dog, Cow, in Cincinnati back in 2014. Cow had been locked in a crate her entire life when her neglectful owner gave the terrified dog to Diann.

“She was so withdrawn,” Diann said, adding that Cow was emaciated and her paws were red and painful from living in her own filth.

Slowly, the boxer mix came around, and she’s been at her rescuer’s side ever since. The bond the two share is incredibly strong.

Cow instinctively provides Diann, who is homeless and living on the streets in downtown Toledo, with comfort when the horrors of her own rough past haunt her. She has struggled with depression, anxiety, and panic attacks for years, preventing her from working. She was recently also diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder.

“Cow doesn’t know about my life, but she knows when I need her,” Diann, 51, said. “She gives me kisses and nudges me to get me out of it. It might take a while, but she does get me out of it.”

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Diann grew up bouncing between Army bases in the United States and Germany. 

She left school after 10th grade and was kicked out of her family’s house in Germany at 18 years old. She married young, quickly had a daughter, and eventually wound up in Ohio, where she divorced her husband of two years in 1985.

“He started running the streets, doing drugs and other women,” Diann said.

She took her daughter back to family in Germany, later returning and running afoul of her ex-husband.

“I came back to gather my daughter’s stuff, and he took her,” she said. “The court sided with him, and I fought him in the courts for years.”

She found work as a waitress in Toledo go-go bars, where co-workers introduced her to crack cocaine.

“I was so stupid,” Diann said. “I tried it and got hooked.”

Shortly after her son was born, she found herself a victim of sex trafficking. The first pimp soon sold her to the second, but both fed her addiction. She was continually used and beaten, then given more drugs and sent back to the street for the next round.

Diann was purchased by a third man just a few months into the trade. This one, she said, was kinder. He rarely laid a hand on her, tried to wean her off the drugs, and made sure she was able to care for her son.

“It seems strange, but he was well taken care of,” Diann said.

The man kept her for several years, taking her across the Midwest and once to Las Vegas. Somewhere in Indiana, Diann decided she wanted out.

“I’d had enough of that life,” she said. “I was done.”

She made a deal with two of her most-trusted customers to rent a furnished town house. She kept the two truckers satisfied when they were in town, and they made sure she and her son had a place to live, clothes, food, and other necessities.

Diann got herself clean, using sheer willpower to break her addiction.

“I was strung out really bad. I got really super skinny, like a walking toothpick,” she said. “One day, I said that I have to walk away. And I did. It wasn’t easy, but I did it.”

She picked up a job at a fast-food restaurant, but occasionally returned to selling sexual favors at truck stops to help pay a babysitter.

“I did what I had to do to make ends meet,” she said. “I started stacking up money to come back to Toledo.”

When she’d saved enough, she told the two men she was leaving. They let her go and she’s been scraping by ever since.

“I try to pretend none of that ever happened,” Diann said. “I just want to erase it. It’s an ugly past.”

But she’s been unable to forget. The trauma is a primary factor contributing to her mental-health status.

When Cow came along, the dog became her lifeline.

Powerful bond

In late August, Diann began going to Unison Behavioral Health Group for mental health care. Her primary goal was getting a letter recommending an emotional-support animal, thereby permitting Cow to stay with her wherever she finds housing in accordance with federal regulations.

Cow is Diann’s primary support system. She listens carefully when Diann talks to her, sometimes talking back, and licks away any tears that surface.

Life on the streets is taking a toll on Cow just as much as it is on her owner. The dog frequently limps on a hind leg, and Diann recently noticed the pads on two of Cow’s paws are becoming worn and tender.

“I’m so sorry, baby girl,” Diann told her dog, crying. “I’m so sorry. Look what this is doing to you. You don’t know how hard it is, but I’m trying. I’m trying to find a place for us. I’m so sorry.”

Cow whined and crawled toward Diann before getting stiffly to her feet to lick her owner’s face. Diann smiled, then laughed and kissed Cow’s muzzle before gently pushing her face away to stop the thorough face-washing. Cow resettled, tucked against her owner’s leg.

“See?” Diann said. “She knows when I need her. I just hope she knows how much I love her.”

Calming presence

Janet Hoy-Gerlach, an associate professor in the social work program at the University of Toledo, studies the human-animal bond. Her current project is a qualitative study on the effect of emotional-support animals for individuals dealing with mental illness.

“It’s a powerful bond,” she said. “The findings are looking very consistent with what’s in literature about emotional-support animals being able to improve well-being and quality of life, as well as reducing specific symptoms of mental health diagnoses.”

The animals have positive physical, emotional, psychiatric, and social effects for their people. Being with an animal has measurable calming effects on heart and respiratory rates, blood pressure, and stress-hormone levels. They can provide a sense of purpose and motivation, in addition to reducing loneliness and helping people feel needed.

“That nonjudgmental presence, the affection, the company is helpful,” Ms. Hoy-Gerlach said.

The use of animals in social work is expanding, as is the research in the field.

“Our cultural norms as Americans about what our animals mean to us and how we should treat them are changing, on the whole,” said Yvonne Smith, an assistant professor at Syracuse University who is developing curriculum related to the use of animals in the field.

Professionals are beginning to realize that for people in crisis, separating them from their pets can cause further anguish, she said.

“When people have experienced severe trauma, our No. 1 concern after making sure they are safe is not retraumatizing that person and subjecting them to more trauma in the process of trying to help them,” Ms. Smith said. “Separating someone from an animal they share a close bond with and gain comfort from, I can only describe that as more trauma.”

A motel respite

Diann has filled out a number of applications for apartments and is working on others. When she can, she continues to search for private rentals as well.

She and Cow found a short respite from the street after a donor paid for them to stay at the Red Roof Inn on Executive Parkway for a week beginning Sept. 1.

“It felt really good to sleep in a bed, I’m not gonna lie about that. I think she slept good, too,” Diann said after the first night as Cow rooted around in the bed, circled a half-dozen times, and lay down with a hefty sigh. “I’m so grateful. I can take a shower every day, at least for a few days.”

She used the secure hotel room to whittle down her possessions. She prioritized Cow’s donated dog food and the items that will help them both when the weather turns colder. Diann is terrified of living outside in northwest Ohio’s often-fickle winter weather.

“What scares me is Cow,” she said. “Can I keep her warm enough? To hell with me as long as she’s 100 percent warm. I will take it all, the frostbite and everything, just to keep her warm. I would do that for her.”

She knows she will have to find a more protected place to sleep at night. She’s trying to maintain hope she will find somewhere to live before that is necessary, but it’s becoming harder to believe it will happen as the days and weeks pass with no luck.

“Will I ever get housing I can afford, and me and Cow can breathe?” Diann said.

She is adamant she will never go back to the abusive ex-boyfriend she left in July, no matter how desperate things get. She’s more than done with being abused in this lifetime.

“It’s hard out here, but I’m away from that at least,” she said. “I’ll take my chances out here. I have my dog and we’ll survive one way or the other, some kind of way.”

Diann’s time at the hotel ended without any word from her various applications for housing. She checked out Sept. 8, called a cab, and went back to downtown Toledo.

She and Cow returned to their old sleeping spot on the concrete at the former Greyhound station on Jefferson Avenue that night.

‘I’m really scared’

On Wednesday, Diann met with a representative from Neighborhood Properties Inc., a Toledo nonprofit housing organization that specializes in cases of homelessness involving mental illness and addiction. A friend, who is also homeless, watched Cow and Diann’s belongings downtown while she went through a standard assessment used to prioritize services and filled out an application for one of the organization’s apartments.

She was tense and jittery throughout the process, which involved answering personal questions about her history, health, and current mental state. Her anxiety and frustration were evident in her expressions and the restless movement of her legs.

“I’m nervous about everything,” she said afterward. “And I’m really scared, to be honest.”

Deeply embedded in Diann’s worry is the constant fear that Cow won’t be allowed to stay with her. The dog she affectionately calls “turkey butt” is the center of her universe.

“It’s been hard, but I’m not leaving her behind and I’m not giving her up,” she said.

Diann is making progress and has obtained an initial letter from her counselor recommending she have an emotional-support animal to help her cope with her mental disabilities. In addition to the various applications she’s already submitted for housing, she is now waiting for a referral through the United Way 211 helpline and continuing to search for more options.

In the meantime, she’s finding a new place to sleep at night after troublesome run-ins recently with Toledo police, city workers, and other homeless people at the old Greyhound station.

But on her good days, Diann is able to retain a bit of optimism. She knows she has overcome extreme difficulty before, and is holding onto hope that she will pull through this time too.

“I thank God that I’ve survived it all,” she said.

Contact Alexandra Mester: amester@theblade.com, 419-724-6066, or on Twitter @AlexMesterBlade.

First Published September 19, 2016, 4:00 a.m.