How volunteering with dogs helped me advocate for men's mental health—and improved mine

As a longstanding volunteer with my local dog rescue charity, I've seen first-hand the positive impact that can be made when people are willing to give a little of their time to a good cause.

I'm really proud to work somewhere that not only allows me to volunteer, but actively encourages it, and has implemented a dedicated programme (which we call AdaptaKind) to get as many team members involved as possible. In my case, I've seen the benefits for the dogs I've fostered and for my own mental health—and surprisingly, learnt a lot about supporting other men's mental health in my community, too.

I started fostering rescue dogs in September 2022 with Mutts Dog Rescue, based out of the Greater Toronto Area. I had been going through a lot in my personal life and didn't feel ready to adopt, but equally felt that I had a lot to offer an animal in need, so fostering was the way forward. To date, I've fostered seven dogs, and all have now been permanently adopted by loving homes, so I'd like to think I did a good job! Every single one has had a different story, different needs, and different challenges to overcome—and I was prepared to help them however I could. What I didn't anticipate was how much every dog would actually help me, and would end up connecting me with numerous other men struggling with their mental health who just needed someone they felt comfortable talking to.

Giving dogs confidence and finding my own

When a new foster dog arrives, you never know exactly how they're going to adjust. They're in a new environment, learning a new routine, with someone they've never met before. I quickly learned that something as simple as taking them for regular walks created structure they'd often never had, but were really looking for. You get to know the dog, and the dog gets to know you, and you start to develop a cadence. After a while, around the time of your normal afternoon walk, the dog just knows—they'll look at you, then look at the door, then back again. You know they're saying, 'Hey, it's time for our walk. I'm waiting for you!' And when you're out walking, they're like a different dog. They know what to expect, they know the rules, and they start to look forward to exploring—all because you've set the agenda, and they've learned from you.

Radcliffe out in the snow with another dog

Realising just how much these dogs pick up on, and how much they rely on me to give and maintain that structure for them, was such a confidence boost. The dogs needed me to take the lead, and I started to see myself as a leader. I started to believe in myself by seeing myself through their eyes. Despite the different traumas they had all been through, I was able to help them heal and start enjoying life again. The confidence, self-belief, and leadership skills I'd struggled with were becoming stronger through my time with the dogs.

Building an unofficial support network

As my fostering and dog walking went on, and my mental wellbeing continued to benefit, I started to notice something else. As many dog walkers will know, when you have a regular route around your neighbourhood at the same time every day, you start to recognise other people—and their dogs!—doing exactly the same. You get to know the other dog walkers on your route because you see them all the time, and they get to know you too. After a while, you get chatting when you see them around. Over time, organically, other men out with their dogs would come and start talking to me. At first, I didn't think too much of it; it was the usual: 'Hey, how's your dog? Nice day today.' And of course, the dogs were happy because they also got to know each other, and now they had another dog to play with. But then, sometimes, we'd start to walk together for a bit while the dogs were running around and talk some more, and the conversation would move on from the weather—perhaps to local neighbourhood news, and then to family life. And then, so often, it would migrate to, 'Oh man, I'm having a tough day today.'

Men, especially Black men like me, often have a hard time expressing emotional vulnerability. Many of us find the idea of approaching a professional and admitting we're struggling really daunting. But these informal moments of connection through dog walking became more than just 'hey, another guy with a dog'; they became a safe place for us to talk about what we're going through. And it happened consistently, to the point that we've now got a sort of support network. Over the two years I've been volunteering with the dogs, we've built up a group in the neighbourhood who all feel able to talk together about whatever we're struggling with, and we're all doing better for it.

As men, there's often still pressure (even if self-imposed) to be the provider and the fixer, and not to show 'weakness'. But struggling is not weakness. I have so much respect for the men I talk to and the strength they show in being open about what they're dealing with. I hope I can continue to be a listening ear for those who need one, to spread the word that it's good to talk, and to lead by example by being open about my own struggles, too.

A lot of the time, people think volunteering is about what you can do for others—and of course, that is really important—but sometimes, you also have to think about what you need to do for yourself. And in my case, I didn't know it, but those things ended up being one and the same. Connecting with the dogs' different situations and different needs led me to connecting better with myself, and then connecting with others. I started out telling myself I wanted to help the dogs, and I am. But in reality, I think they've helped me so much more.