Animals need love, food, shelter. That’s it.

I was going to add exercise, but you know, that’s a domesticated thing. If you’re being chased by a lion, (or you’re chasing an antelope, for that matter), you’ve got no use for a treadmill.

Animals have the gift of knowing what they want, in the moment. That’s so cool.

And believe me, I get it. I get that humans are here to plan and steward, that if we actually followed the way of Walt Whitman and turned to live with the animals, we’d find ourselves cold, wet and hungry and pissed off.

BUT- wouldn’t it be cool to be in the moment? To lay down when you’re tired. And eat when you’re hungry. And play ball and frisbee, and yes, maybe mix it up with a dog that’s trying to hump you?

Why don’t we know what we want?

Why do we spend so much time chasing stuff we don’t want? Or buying stuff we don’t want and then working at jobs we don’t like to pay for it?

Animals trust their instinct. For better or worse. We don’t. We do anything but. We cerebralize our lives.  We process our emotions.  We live life without getting dirty.

What is that about?  

I’ve spent nearly 3 months not advertising my work with people. I thought I was just having some sort of resistance, that if I could just get over my writer’s block, I could open the doors again.

I’ve been spinning down since October.

I blamed myself. I have these gifts. I should use them. I should help people. Why am I not excited?

And then this morning, at 2:30 am (Thank you, Olive, for your late-night potty break), it hit me.  The help I’m giving people–> It’s not the help that people need. And as importantly, it’s not the help I want to give.

It’s not my instinct.

And suddenly, what had felt like a wet smoldering, within me, turned into real heat. 

I’m not here to hand-hold and get people through today.

I’m here to reset bones. I want to reset the spiritual bones.

I’m not a sugar tit.  I have something against sugar tits right now.

So, for my people clients, I say, unless you are ready to do vital work with me, to be brave and to really want to engage with life,  hire someone else.

If you’re ready to have your spiritual bones reset, and to start walking through life with purpose, I’m here for you.  For everybody else, my give-a-damn is busted.

If you’re not ready to tune into your instinct, and turn off the other voices that run your life, you’ve got something that you need to work out on your own.  And that’s cool. But don’t do it in my office.

There are people who need hand-holding right now. I’m not knocking them. But you might not be one of them.

Instinct matters. Gut matters. The world matters. Being a global citizen and making things better matters. Tuning into nature matters. Being connected matters.

That’s where I’m at.

And to my animal friends- Thank you! You can’t read this, but maybe someone will tell you.

And now, my instinct says it’s time for breakfast, and then a nap.

When I leave a successful client session, I want my clients to feel like I’ve talked with their pets, and solved their issues.

I want to foster an environment of trust, so that they know, without a doubt, that I am talking with their pet.

I have heard skeptics say,

Beware the soft belly of Lotus the Cat. It's a trap! Unless you're her mom.

How hard is it to read a cat?  ”What’s your favorite food? Tuna.  How do you feel about swimming? I hate it. What do you want to do right now? I want to go outside and catch birds.”

Skepticism has its place in our society.

Certainly, there are people in my line of work, who do cold reads, who only read animals in person, who take body language and owner cues and turn them into answers. 

A cold read is taking the subtle information that someone gives you and giving it back to them as fact.

It’s frustrating because some pet psychics (and other types) don’t even realize that they’re doing it. They actually believe that they’re reading effectively.  Or they cold read a bit, and then fill in the rest with their intuition, and the cold read contaminates the rest of the reading.

I am a huge fan of the CLEAN READ.

A clean read is a read where a person simply reaches out, asks the questions and returns the answers, without other information to cause speculation.

In person, a good psychic tries hard not to cold read. Observable information can get in the way of a clean read.

"Comfy" appears courtesy of LJhar6 via a creative commons license

For example, let’s say that you’re having a birthday party for your beagle. You’ve invited people guests, and a few well-behaved dogs.

Your beagle, let’s call him Buddy, is walking around with his tail a bit tucked and he’s panting a bit, and just in general, seems nervous.

A cold reader might say, Buddy isn’t used to so many people. (That seems like a natural observed assumption, right? (Nervous dog, lots of people))

A good psychic would ask Buddy, and might say, Yep, there are a lot of people here, but Buddy likes that, he’s stressed because someone left an unattended plate, and he ate a bunch of “green stuff” (I think, maybe, guacamole?) and he really needs to poop. 

or Buddy would like it if that guy would stop touching his dad’s trophies.

How to tell a clean read from a not-so-clean read

1. Clean Reads share personality features that match the pet’s personality. Clean reads sound like the pet.

I was recently helping a couple talk with their golden retriever. Lucy tends to wake up in the middle of the night. They were concerned about her anxiety.

It would be easy to make the assumption that they have an anxious dog, right?

But, they don’t have an anxious dog.

So, when I said, You know, in talking with Lucy, I’m not getting the personality of an anxious golden retriever. She doesn’t feel anxious to me.  

And one of them said, You’re right, she’s not one of those anxious goldens. We just can’t figure out what’s wrong.

If I was cold reading, I’d get a ping about “anxiousness” and find myself going down the trail of how to resolve the issues of an anxious dog (which are totally different issues than Lucy’s issues).

When I talk with an animal, the first clues I get are related to personality, just in the same way that when you talk to a person, you can immediately tell whether they are jovial or stand-offish or blustery.

It’s vital that I share that, first-off, so that the owner knows that I have reached their animal. In the (relatively rare, but it still happens) occasion where I am talking to the wrong dog, I want to recognize that as soon as possible.

If I say, Your dog is bouncing up and down so happy to talk. and the owner says, um…could you mean my neighbor’s dog?, I could certainly be ringing up the wrong dog!

Here are my lovely clients, Ramses and Izzy

A good psychic is going to trust their abilities to the point where if they’re wrong, they’re totally comfortable admitting it and trying again. No psychic has a 100% accuracy rate, any more than an interviewer or journalist has a 100% accuracy rate.  

2. Clean Reads are Not Dependent on Breed Information

A clean reader will not make assumptions according to a pet’s breed.

I have met Jack Russells (a breed with a well-known prey drive) who love to curl up with the resident kitties.

I have met Newfoundlands that hate water.

I know a cat that likes to eat melon.

And a rabbit who loves to stare at herself in the mirror.

I know a horse who thinks he’s people, who likes beef jerky.

If a pet psychic starts describing your pet according to their breed specifications, you’re probably dealing with a cold reader.

They should be able to tell how your pet is like its breed, and how he or she isn’t.

This is not to say that there aren’t breed similarities to keep in mind. Whenever I meet an orange cat, I tend to bring up the fact that the recessive gene for a cat’s orange color is also the same gene for small pre-frontal lobes.  Orange cats tend to have similar personalities, but there is a wide range of personality within the orange cat family too.

I know a lovely orange cat, Grimalkin, who likes to make jokes.

I live with a sweet orange cat who is excessively paranoid, and has OCD.

Do all orange cats like to make jokes? Nope.

Are they all OCD? Nope.

Do they have a tendency to be a little quirky? Oh yeah.

3. A clean read does not take into account the personality, affluence level, or geographical location of the human client.

Bo - the paranoid and OCD cat takes a nap

Some of my clients are wealthy. And some are famous. They may be people that you’ve heard of.  It doesn’t matter.

If a dog shows me a country road, but I know they live in the city, I talk about the country road.

If a cat shows me a cardboard box that he’s particularly fond of, and I know that his owner has great taste in home furnishings and money out the wazoo, I’m going to talk about the cardboard box. The cat knows what his box is made out of.  Why should I not trust that?

I once had a horse tell me that he was from Idaho. His owner was calling me from Indiana. I said, Did you know your horse is from Idaho? and he chuckled and said, Yep, I bet he wants to go back there and visit. Can you remind him how far the trip was?

4. A clean read will have bits in it that the psychic does not understand, but still relates.

I may not know why your cat continues to show me a gecko wearing a hat, who is staring at her from under the couch.

But if I tell you this, and it turns out that it’s your kid’s favorite toy and you’ve been looking for it, I sound a lot less like I’m crazy, don’t I?

Sometimes, it’s weird. Sometimes pets show me things that their owners can’t place and maybe I sound like I’m a little bizzaro.  That’s part of the job. It’s okay.

So, I will share whatever I get, in the way I get it, without speculation. Because that’s a clean read.

Let’s Hear It For The Clean Read!

I would love to hear about your experiences with clean and not-so-clean reads. And also, about other questions you have about being a pet psychic.

And most humans want that too. We want to be close to our animals.

Olive and Gabriel (the new foster dog): heartbeats at my feet.

This is a good time for us to stop being lost in translation, and for us to relate to our pets as the dear members of our family that they are.

So how do we go about developing relationships with our pets?

I have a few ideas for us.

And I really mean US. My beloved dog, Olive- she’s suffering the effects of a too-busy human: one who doesn’t find the time for nearly enough walks, and then makes up for it with too many treats.  Currently, she resembles a swollen tick more than the cute little staffie that she usually is. The holidays did not help with this!

1. Stop and listen

90% of us carry on conversations with our pets.

Is this what it sounds like when you come home?

Ben-Dog is listening...

Heybuddyimhome!Howareyou?Good?Didyouhaveagoodday?Ihadagooddayexcepttrafficwas
prettybadandIdidn’tgettoeatlunchuntil2.Whatdidyoudoallday? whatshouldwehave
fordinner?YourehavingkibblebutwhatshouldIhave?

We just rattle on with whatever it occurs to us to talk about.
If you did this in conversation with a human, what would they think?

Try this out instead:

Hey Buddy, I’m home. (Stop, take a deep breath, relax, make gentle happy eye contact with your pet. Pet your pet).

How are you? (Stop, wait and listen for an answer. Take another deep breath. See if you can make your slow breathing and their breathing match up).

Good? (Stop. Open yourself up for this conversation. Your pet is loving this attention).

Did you have a good day? ( Stop. Picture in your mind your pet doing fun things while you are at work).

I had a good day, except traffic was pretty bad, and I didn’t get to eat lunch until 2. (Stop, You can make a mind picture about traffic and lunch if you’d like. Listen. Get a little empathy.)

What should we have for dinner? (Stop, listen. You’re telling your pet what’s coming next, which gives them a routine, which helps them feel more at peace).

I know you’re having kibble, but what should I have for dinner? (Stop, listen. Pet).

Just a 3 second break between each question causes two things to happen.  First- you’re slowing down and actually connecting with your pet.  And Second- you might just hear or see an answer from them!

2. When your pet does something you’d rather they didn’t, take a moment to think about their logical reasons for doing so, and then change the environment to make this less likely to occur.

Leo tries out the roasting pan.

On New Year’s Eve, my cat Leo walked into my bedroom, meowed at me, and then proceeded to take a very liquid dump in my new Suede Sperry Topsider Wedges!

I mean, why? WHY?!?!?  WHY WOULD THAT BE A GOOD IDEA?

Well, from his point of view, he had a few issues that I was not addressing, and he needed to get my attention.

Foster dogs are annoying (we had just received a new one that day).

Cats should get to go outside on New Year’s Eve, regardless of the drunk drivers and hooligan teenagers with firecrackers.

The door to the laundry room is closed, and Leo does not have access to his kitty box.

Leo had eaten a lot of chunk light tuna as part of the day’s celebration, and was now feeling the effects of it.

This is not a free pass on bad behavior.   Leo still got a first-class ticket to a night in the laundry room.

But if we can understand the logic for why our pets do what they do, we can often change it so they stop.

Once I figured out what Leo was upset about, I got why he chose such an urgent display of frustration.  Why he victimized my new suede wedges? He’s not saying.

Pets are not people. They rarely act in a vindictive way. Their logic is different, based on their species.

Every pet has a logical reason for why they do things that we’d rather they didn’t. Pets pee inside to protect the house. Cats pee on the guest’s luggage, as a welcoming gesture (pee makes the guest smell like the rest of us). Dogs chew our favorite shoes because they miss us and they smell like us (also they were bored).

67% of owners believe that they understand what their pets are saying and that their pets understand them. I think this is true. And if you need help figuring out why an animal does a certain thing, consider investing in an animal communication session.

3. Put that smart phone down-

Bo and Gabe wait for me to finish writing this post...

Smart phones are a nice short-term way to quell anxiety. Our time would be better spent, (and our anxiety would go away) if we took more time to rest and do nothing, and/or hiked or played with our pets.

4. Notice the win-win possibilities.

Olive needs walks. Bridget needs to take a break every 90 minutes or so. Bridget could use the fresh air and moving too.  Win-Win.

Maybe you’re lonely and your dog is bored- take an obedience class or join a flyball league.

Are you and your cat stressed out? Re-arrange your furniture to create a lovely spot where the two of you can sit together (preferably by the window where the sun can shine in and where your cat can watch the birds).

5. Create a routine and then pepper that routine with moments of interaction.

Pets love routine.

Soup at 6 please!

Routines tell your pets what’s coming next. They become something to rely on. This is especially true for animals that have experienced trauma.  Olive knows that dinner is at six o’clock. She starts reminding me about 5 minutes beforehand.  She lived for awhile on the streets not knowing when she’d eat again.  Having a specific time for dinner makes her happy!

One of my clients tucked her dog in every night, putting a blanket over him and his dog bed, and kissing him and telling him that she hoped he had good dreams.  He loved this part of his day.

6. Pay attention to how your emotions impact your pet.

If your pet is a “feeler” (think retrievers, pitbulls, maltese dogs, and orange or calico cats), they pick up and resonate whatever you’re feeling. They literally feel how you do.

Some animals love this. It’s their purpose.  If I’m having a sad day, my orange cat Bo will insist that he sit on my lap and make things better.

Other animals are unduly burdened by our emotions.  They exhibit stress behaviors, licking and chewing, shaking, being less social, not handling new situations as well, etc.

My cat is not my therapist. Susan is my therapist. My cat is my cat. It’s up to us to keep ourselves mentally well, and to know what our pets can handle emotionally.

No-one wants to burden their pets. And yet we want to have real relationships with them. This is where listening and paying attention can do us the most good!

(That being said, don’t try to “fake” an emotion. Pets are like kids. They figure this stuff out!).

7. Learn to talk with your pets

What I do, you can do. Very soon, I’ll be offering online and in-person animal communication classes. I hope you’ll consider joining us.

New Year, New Relationship!

I hope that this list sparks some ideas for you, and that you and your pets have a happy 2013!

Recommended Reading:

Beyond Obedience

Bones Would Rain From the Sky

Learning their Language

Straight from the Horse’s Mouth

I want to share their stories, but first  I need to share one of my own.

Part of my job is helping people decide whether it’s the right time for them to put their pet to sleep. I ask the pet whether it’s their time.

Dogs, cats, horses, everyone has an opinion about whether it’s their time or not. Very few say, “Eh, whatever.”

So, last Friday, it was my turn to decide if it was Hunni’s time.

Hunni was my whip-and-retrieve-it, a whippet-golden retriever cross, the product of a purebred golden and whoever got in the back yard.

My beloved weimaraner, Max, had died. These puppies were advertised in the paper as golden retriever/weimaraner crosses. It seemed like a good sign.

I had to work that day, so my partner, at the time, picked Hunni out and brought her home.  I came home to find a tiny, blonde puppy with beautiful brown eyes.

You know, you should never let anybody pick out a dog for you.

They will invariably mess it up.

“What do you think?” He asked.

“It looks like her lights are on, but nobody is home.”

Her eyes seemed too bright, like she was on a perpetual dopamine high.

“I named her Honey,” he said. “Does that sound okay?”

I mean, she was honey-colored. But I don’t usually name my pets after food.

“That way I can say I have two honeys in my bed.”

At the time, I rolled my eyes. But now, I have a gag reflex whenever I think of that.

I made the mistake of correlating this dog with my partner, and as our discontent grew, this poor little puppy was ignored by my partner and resented by me.

She wasn’t my dog. I hadn’t picked her out. And she didn’t listen. And she wouldn’t fetch.

By the following January, my ex had moved out. And he left what I thought of as “his” dog behind. And he took my cat, Georgia.

I’ve talked before about how terrible Hunni was as a puppy. I renamed her “Hunni” because I started calling her “Atilla the Hunni”, due to her ability to conquer and lay waste to my shoe collection, my friend’s prescription sunglasses, the various knobs and stick-shift in my car. If it was plastic, it was history.

And my living room made a very convenient bathroom. And she learned how to turn the deadbolt on the door in the laundry room, to let herself and Guapo out during the day while I was at work.

My neighbors hated me.

This was before I could talk to animals. After thousands of dollars in training, and no results, I made a last-ditch effort and hired a pet psychic.

And she set me straight.

Hunni really liked me. She was happy that she didn’t have to go with my ex.  She didn’t realize that it was really a problem for me that she did her business on the living room rug.  And she would fetch, but not a ball, because a ball’s roundness bothers her. Could I find something with legs to throw instead?

That animal communicator solved our problems in about an hour and a half.

And then, my partner, Brian and his dog, Benny showed up. And those two were like peas and carrots from the beginning.

Hunni became (or maybe she always was) a sweet and kind dog, with mostly impeccable manners.

While she never quite got over the chewing thing,  she was my kid’s best friend, curling up with him every night, at the bottom of his bed.

She was a dainty little thing who hated sweaters and ketchup, but loved pretty much everything and everybody else.

For some reason, she really liked this little blue hat.  Here she is, annoyed with Beaulah for wearing her hat.

And look how she cute she feels wearing it.

We knew she was slowing down as she neared 12 years old. She napped more. She lost her hearing. She started having little accidents around the house.

About a week before she died, Benny stood over her and whined and pawed at her, something he never did before.

“I don’t think Hunni’s going to be around a long time,” I told Brian.

She cuddled a lot more. And she smiled a lot.  I gave her belly scratches every day, and she’d fall asleep after 20 minutes or so.

She had the best smile ever.

We thought we had more time. We thought she was just slowing down. We didn’t know she had cancer.

And then last Thursday, she stopped eating. And on Friday morning, we went to the vet, and an ultrasound showed that her belly was full of fluid. She had a hemangiosarcoma on her spleen.

She could have had emergency surgery to remove that spleen, but with hemangiosarcoma, she would only live, at most, about four months more.  It didn’t seem fair to put her through all that.

I called Brian, and we decided to put her to sleep.

She was ready. I had to drive home to pick up my son (who is nearly 15) so that he could say goodbye.  She laid down in the exam room and was in the same place when we came back 90 minutes later (I live a long way from my vet!).

Ike said goodbye. We talked about what a good dog she had been, and how much we loved her.

Then Ike left the room.

And then I felt her spirit go up. I suddenly felt this light, chest-cracking joy. “I’m okay!” She said.

Her body was still alive, laying there, breathing. That was strange. I wondered what was left when the spirit goes. I whispered “Hunni”, but she just laid there. She was a shell.

And when the vet came in to put her down, and he asked if I was ready, I said, “Yes.”

And she died, and he and I cried a little.

After she died, I thought I’d bring the other dogs in, so that they would know that Hunni was really and truly gone.

Benny came in, sniffed her once, and then started looking around the room for snacks.

Olive came in, sniffed Hunni, and tucked her tail between her legs, “LET’S GET OUT OF HERE!” she said. It makes sense that she responded that way. I mean, she can’t stand going to the vet, and here was her good buddy, dead. So we left, and got cheeseburgers on the way home.

Hunni was a little Lady.

Olive? Not so much.

Bo Helps Out

The next morning, my cat Bo was walking around the house meowing and banging on doors. He interrupted my healing call four times.

It was so obnoxious.

Finally I said, “What is going on?”

Bo asked, “Where’s Hunni?”

I forgot to tell the cats.

I told Bo that she had died and he said, “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped you! How are you? Are you okay?”

And then he jumped up on my lap and rolled around and purred and hugged my arm and just loved me up. I cried. And later, my son Ike told me that Bo had been his “tear sponge” too.

Is it easier for a Pet Psychic to put her pet to sleep?

Yes. I know the other side. I can tune into Hunni and still talk to her.  It helps a lot to have that inside view.

And no.

Saturday was okay, but Sunday was brutal. Our house was so quiet.

This morning Benny, my shadow, didn’t get up when I got up.

He stayed in bed.  Very unusual. He always gets up and follows me around. He stays close.

He’s nearly 11 and he’s a big dog. I know he’s not long for this world, but I am hoping that we still have some time with him.

This is the price we pay for having pets. And we can take comfort in a good end. And of course, like any owner, I feel a little regret for not always petting her when she wanted pets, or throwing a shoe at her when she was a puppy (not my best moment).

But it’s okay.

On Saturday night, I emailed a local no-kill shelter, offering my house as a foster home for a dog or two. We’re not ready for another dog of our own, but we can be a kind way station. We can give back.

Hug your pets for me tonight.

And Hunni, have fun on the other side. We know you will.

Her dog, Angus had died suddenly after a successful osteosarcoma amputation.

Angus was a lab/newfie mix.

He was big and sweet and the love of Grace’s life.

He died on Saturday.

Grace was devastated.

I walked into Grace’s house, and things seemed a little off.

There was something not quite right.

Grace had a little shrine of pictures of Angus, and his dog bed was still center stage in the living room.  Grace kept the tears back as she talked about her sweet dog.

Angus

Often, when I look at a picture of a passed-away dog, I get a little energetic bit of information, and I’ll also hear, Hey, Hi! Hi there! (or something like that).  When I looked at Angus’ picture, I got nothing.

Grace told me that she was surprised at how deeply she was feeling this loss. She’d lost beloved pets and human friends and family before, but this time she felt frantic and upset and peaceless.

I realized that Angus probably hadn’t passed over. I tuned in. I heard him say, Okay, I’m going.  I felt a little eye roll from Angus.  I watched him go into the tunnel.

The tunnel of light looks like a tunnel that’s literally woven of light. It’s bright and beautiful.

We waited a bit. Grace started to calm.  I contacted Angus again and he showed me that he had been met by an older man, wearing a grey suit and a dapper grey hat. His hair was grey and black.

At first, Grace thought that might be the man who found Angus when he was a puppy. I said that I thought his hat looked reminiscent of the hat my grandfather and uncles wore in the 60′s. Very Mad Men.  Grace asked, Could it be my dad?

She brought out a picture.  Yes. It was her dad. I am always a little surprised when I see a physical picture that matches the picture in my head.

We checked back in with Angus. He said, I found the dogs and I found the cats, but where are the people?

He showed me dogs and cats.

Grace laughed and said, Angus was always a people dog. He went to daycare, but he went to see his people friends. Angus was not a doggy dog.

Then Angus said, I need to find him. Angus showed me a picture of a teenager in a pair of swimming trunks. The teenager had red hair.

I asked Grace, Who is the boy with the red hair? Did she know a boy with red hair who had passed away?

She did. A dear friend’s son had been born with severe physical disabilities. He had unnaturally red hair. Nicky had lived until he was about elementary age, but he would be in his teens now.

I asked, “Did he like to swim?”

Yes. He would come to her condo and swim in the pool. He loved the water.

We waited until Angus found him. Nicky was tall and whole and happy. He pet Angus on the head. Nicky was with a blonde girl. They were eating spaghetti. They shared it with Angus.

It looked like they were at a summer camp.

I asked Angus, Is this Nicky?

Yes. he said. I wanted to show Grace that he was okay.

We could not figure out who the girl was.

Angus told Grace that he would be around her until she had someone in her life with an energy like his.  He said, It could be a dog or a man. Somebody manly and protective.

Grace laughed. She said that even though there was another dog in the house (Crosby), Angus was definitely the man of the house.

Angus felt bad that he had to leave already. He was annoyed. I told him that I thought that he’d feel better pretty soon. Heaven has that effect on us.

We looked around the room. The energy had changed. Grace could breathe better. She was still grieving, but it was manageable.

I love it when I see the other side, and when I see how our lives and connections don’t stop, simply because our bodies do.  And I love a dog that’s faithful and caring and thinking about his loved one, even after he’s passed away.

And also, I have to admit, when you do something amazing, sometimes you get jaded to the miracle.
I’m telling you this, because last week, things changed for me.

Sweet Owen

Last week, I was working with a dog that had passed away. Her name is Owen.

I searched for her on the other side. I couldn’t find her. And then I heard a voice say, “Don’t look for me in heaven. I’m right here.”

Owen materialized in the room for just a moment. I had goosebumps.

I asked, Could you do that again? and she said, I could, but I don’t think you really want me to. Would you like everybody else to appear too?

I said, Who is everybody else?

For just a moment, in my mind’s eye, she showed me my living room full of dogs.

Dogs everywhere.

Dogs in motion.

There had to have been 40 dogs in that room, 40 spirit- dogs.

Over by the window, I saw my old weimaraner, Beaulah.

Beaulah

She looked at me with her knowing countenance.

“They’re all with you.” Owen said. I burst into tears.

Owen said, “We need you to talk for us.”

“Okay”, I whispered.

I felt settled back into my gift, my beautiful gift.

What does it mean to talk for spirit-dogs? I’m not sure.

I have big love in my heart for that experience. I’m staying an animal communicator, and I’m going to get back into the habit of writing about it. There’s much more to animals than what we experience here.  These little poop machines have great purpose.

It’s so stupid that they should heal animals just to put them to sleep.

Nicki didn’t want that to happen to Bonita, so she started using her networking resources to find her a home. Through a very long grapevine, she found me. I called down to see if I could talk with Bonita, and ended up agreeing to be her last-ditch foster home (fully expecting someone in LA to come get this dog).

A week later, Nicki called me. “We’re coming up to Portland.” She said. Then I had the difficult job of explaining to my better half that yes, I had committed to fostering a dog, and no I hadn’t asked him, and yes she’s a pit bull, and no, I don’t know how well she plays with others.

Nicki and her husband, Marcel drove her to Portland on their own dime. And Bonita became my beloved Olive.

Here’s Olive:

Today, I received this letter

January 17, 2011
To My Fellow Dog-lovers!

Since many of you have supported me with donations and moral support, I wanted to update you on some of the rescue activities I have organized in the past year, which have included, running ads in the newspaper, walking & socializing dogs at the shelter, networking dogs on the internet, organizing rescues to take dogs and transporting dogs to rescues.

For over a year now, we have been running ads in the Daily Breeze Newspaper, as often as possible, thanks to our amazing sponsors, Dr. Amsden and Marine Spa! The life-saving ads, featuring a dozen dogs or cats ever time we run, really help get animals adopted and out of the shelter. The ads spur potential adopters into coming down to the shelter and either adopting the animal they choose in the newspaper, or sometimes, they pick another when they get there. Either way, dogs and cats are being saved! Thank you so much to Nikki & her husband, Dr. Amsden and Karen & her husband, for making these ads happen!

After eight months of rehab, following surgery on a snapped Achilles tendon, my husband Marcel is back walking the big dogs at the shelter again. He chooses the most difficult, big, heavy dogs, who don’t often get a chance to get out of their kennels and often finds a diamond in the rough, who I can then network, with some knowledge of the dog’s behavior. It makes it so much easier when we know something about the personality and behavior of the dog.

There was a beautiful brindle pitbull, named Roxy, back in July, whom we snatched from the jaws of death, just a couple of hours before she was to be euthanized. She had been at the Harbor Shelter for over a year, because she was involved in a lawsuit. Once the lawsuit was settled, her time was up and she was scheduled for euthanization.

Having walked and interacted with her many times, I had, naturally, developed a soft spot for Roxy. She was easy to walk and very loving, sweet and loved to cuddle, but no one came to adopt her. On what was to be her last day, I decided to have one last try at networking her and then, too depressed to stay awake and think about her terrible fate, I took to my bed to try and sleep, to hide from the foreboding I felt, knowing I could do nothing to save her. The phone rang and woke me from my escape and lo and behold, a rescuer in Canada said they would take her, if I could get her up to Canada.

I knew nothing of this rescue, but decided, if we drove her up to Canada, at least we could look the place over and see if we felt it a good place for her to go. So we brought Roxy home with us for a few days and played the hide- a-dog game, with our dogs – put ours in the spare room, bring her out into the yard, put her back in our bedroom, move ours back out!! After a few days of this, poor old Roxy had to go to boarding kennels, but a very nice one!

After about a week, we had made plans to drive her to Canada! Off we went. It’s about 2,000 miles each way. Roxy was an angel. She so enjoyed spending time with us and behaved beautifully at the hotels and potty stops. She became so attached to me and insisted on sleeping right next to me on the floor in the hotels and following me everywhere. Wonderful, sweet dog!
We made it to Canada and inspected the beautiful kennel complex she was to be housed in until they could find her a home.

The kennels were air-conditioned and heated, with an indoor kennel and outdoor run for all of the dogs. Perfect!
Not only were the facilities lovely, but so were the rescuers, Steve and Beth. Steve is the guy with the kennels. He focuses on boarding, but occasionally rescues pitbulls, too. He’s well-known as the Pitbull Guy in his area of Canada and the great part of that, is that people looking for pitbulls, always call him.

Roxy now lives on a huge farm, a hundred acres, I believe, with a family who adores her and whom I’m sure she adores in return. I heard the family were concerned about the possibility of her running away with so much land to explore, but I gather she nips outside to do her business and is back inside within a couple of minutes. She’s not going to let this family go!
We spent several hours discussing the horrendous dog situation in L.A., Beth urged me to begin sending transports of multiple dogs to Canada. Why let them die, when there are so many people willing to help them up there? She explained they have such a good spay and neuter program in their area and that smaller dogs are hard to find and people are eager to adopt rescued dogs.

I thought about the possibility all the way back to L.A. Twenty four hours of thinking about it! How could I organize such a huge undertaking? How would I find the money for it?

Fast forward a couple of months and after several weeks of negotiating with the shelter on how we could make this work and hours and hours of phone calls on my 2.5 hour drive to and from work every day, Beth arranged for rescues in Vancouver and in her area to take a few dogs each.

Marcel & I were planning to drive the dogs ourselves, until we found a trusted, reliable driver, “English John,” at the last minute, who would end up doing the drive to Washington, where he would be met by the rescues.

The big day came and at 7:30 a.m., we began loading dogs. The paperwork, finding the right dogs to match that paperwork and the fact that many dogs were still at the spay & neuter clinic next to the shelter when we grabbed them to put them in crates, made it a very long morning of loading. Fortunately, a wonderful volunteer, Diane Valine and her son came to help with loading and to video the event. Eventually, the dogs were on their way to freedom and a new life! Over 30 dogs ended up being saved.

It had never occurred to me that I would worry myself sick while they were en route! I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t settle, couldn’t do anything, until I knew the dogs had arrived safely and I was on the phone with English John throughout the day and night, 20 hours, until they did arrive!

The dogs arrived with full bladders, but healthy and happy! The rescues were delighted with the Harbor Dogs and the dogs were obviously delighted with the rescuers! Some of the dogs already had committed adopters, who had chosen them from their pictures and all of the dogs were adopted within a few weeks. We asked for photos and updates on the dogs as they got adopted and we got them. Wonderful, grateful adopters, who loved their new fuzzy friends and you could see from the pictures, that the dogs were ecstatic to have new homes.

The first transport was such a success, that we decided to a second just a few weeks later, on Thanksgiving weekend. The day before the transport, Beth requested we send Sadie, a beautiful German Shepherd. I checked with the shelter and they said she was a biter. I told Beth I couldn’t send a biter, but I’d check her out. The day before the transport, I asked my husband to temperament-test her. I said, “I hear she’s a biter, why don’t you take her for a walk and see!” Without hesitation, Marcel jumped into her cage, slipped on her leash and off they went on a nice long walk. When they returned, he was effusive about what a wonderful dog she was and how beautifully she walked on the leash, always looking at her handler and sitting at every kerb, without being told!

That was good enough for me and Sadie, at the last minute, made it on to the transport, behaving beautifully the whole time.
The transport went off without a hitch and I later heard that the family who had wanted Sadie had picked her up almost the moment she arrived in Canada. They had always had German shepherds and Sadie’s photo reminded them of a dog they recently lost to old age. It turned out that their 14-year-old son had been the victim of a farm accident and had apparently lost a limb. Naturally, the child was devastated by the accident and had become very depressed and listless. He didn’t want to do anything anymore and just stayed in his bed. Apparently, when Sadie arrived, he made a remarkable recovery and wanted to get up to take care of Sadie. They immediately bonded and have become inseparable, by all accounts. Boy saves dog. Dog saves boy. What better ending for a dog which would, most likely, have been euthanized!

The third transport came about, mainly because of a female pitbull, “Baby”,who had been at the shelter for a couple of months. She came in pregnant and gave birth to her puppies at the shelter. She was a model mother and raised them in a dark kennel in the clinic for two months. Even when a puppy from the litter in the next cage, accidentally stumbled into her kennel by mistake, she was sweet and kind to it. Here was a lovely dog, great mother and sweet animal, who had done her best by her own puppies and they were, like many puppies, adopted fairly fast. But Baby was not to be as fortunate. No one wanted a recent mother – they tell us they don’t want a dog with big teats and even when we tell them she’ll get back in shape soon, they’re not interested. So apparently, Baby’s fate was sealed. Her time was up and she was scheduled to be put to sleep.

So many shelter volunteers wanted to help her and the other beautiful, young male pitbull, called Dark Boy, also slated to be euthanized, that I decided to arrange another transport just before Christmas. We only had five days to organize it, because I would be leaving for England for Christmas on December 21, so we did our third transport on December 20!

Two days before the departure date, a supervisor from the shelter called me and asked me if I could find a rescue in Canada for an old Doberman, “Fritzi.” He told me the vet had said he’s got a very bad heart and had lost 20lbs while at the shelter, but he’d really like to see him find a home to spend his remaining weeks or months. He couldn’t bear to think of him wasting away at the shelter any longer. So, I contacted another rescue in Vancouver which I knew considered senior dogs and she found a Doberman rescue who said they would take him and give him a warm, safe place for whatever time he had remaining! Fantastic!

I arrived at the shelter at 7:30 a.m. on the morning of transport number 3! The first thing I would do was check on Fritzi. He’d been put in the warmth of the clinic to make it more comfortable for his old bones. I opened the door to his kennel and saw him lying, unconscious, breathing erratically and clinging to life. English John stroked him softly and we told him how sorry we were that he almost made it to freedom. The vet tech stood behind us, with his hand on my shoulder and said how sorry he was that Fritzi was so close to getting out. We left the room and Fritzi’s suffering was ended with kindness and compassion.
I couldn’t read the kennel cards for the tears in my eyes, but I didn’t have time to dwell on poor old Fritzi. We had forty more dogs to walk and get into crates for their Christmastime transport.

I know many of the dogs we’ve transported, personally. Many I had never met before they were sent to Canada, but I can tell you that, even though we’re in a frantic hurry, when we get them from their kennels at the shelters, to take them to the van, I hug them and tell them how they’re going to a new home, far away from this scary place. And they seem to understand. Most of them seem calm and relaxed as they wait in their crates for the loading to be completed. I imagine that because we know we’re saving them from death, they can feel the love. They just know.

I would like to be able to continue to rescue dogs from Los Angeles shelters, but each transport costs around $1,700, (van rental, gas, payment for the driver),much of which Diane and I have had to subsidize ourselves. Obviously, we can’t keep supporting the cost, so we’re hoping to raise funds for the next one in February. I am only sending this to people who know me and I hope trust me to do the right thing for the dogs with any funds we receive.

Over 130 dogs have been saved on the three transports we have organized already. It would be so great to be able to rescue even more dogs this year! There are so many more wonderful stories that I just don’t have time to impart at this time, but I hope you will understand that my spare time is limited and I choose to spend as much of it as I can on actually saving dogs’ lives.

If you can help with any size donation, I promise you it will go straight to the dogs!!!

Thank you for your support and if you would like to make a donation, checks can be mailed to
Nicky Gore-Jones
1631 South Walker Avenue
San Pedro, CA 90731

P.S.- Here’s a video of the transport!

Because he can’t hear that enough! (And really, who can hear that enough?)

And Here’s Gus

He’ll be 10 on Monday. For his birthday, his mom, Holly, and his sister Boots take him to McDonald’s, where they share a plain burger and each get a spoonful of vanilla shake. Their parrot brother, Austin, eats the bun.

What does your pet want for his or her birthday?

My clients ask their pets this question quite often, and what we hear is that pets like our full attention and some time with us. They like a present or two, but what they want more than anything is our full attention, which is free and usually pretty easy to give.
It’s so funny. Owners are sometimes quite disappointed.
I had a client who threw her dog an elaborate party (with a custom mashed potato and carrot cake) and her dog told me that what she loved most was when everybody left and her mom scratched her belly and they sat on the rug surrounded by new toys.
I asked about the party, and Glory said, That was okay. But I really liked it when my mom scratched my belly.
Simple pleasures.

Tell us how you celebrate?

Can you share how you celebrate milestones with your pet? What do they enjoy most?

Rebecca contacted me to help with the passing of her good friend, Brutus. Brutie was a 15 year-old yorkie who was blind and nearly deaf.

Rebecca and Brutus

Rebecca didn’t want him to suffer anymore, but it was hard to come to terms that it was time for him to go.

When I tuned into Brutus, I found a warm, gentle spirit. When he showed me himself I saw him lit up with a gold light behind him. I was struck by his warmth and wisdom, his kindness.

We talked about his current health. He was sore. It was frustrating to be old.

I asked, “Are you ready to go?”

He said, “What makes you think that I haven’t gone already?”

He showed me himself hovering above his sleeping body.

“I come into my body when I’m held by Rebecca, and I like being in it for eating. The only reason why I haven’t left yet is that I’m not sure if Rebecca will still feel connected to me. ”

Brutus went on, talking directly to Rebecca through me.

“I love what we’ve shared together. I love being close to you and loving you. I don’t feel like our connection will end when my body ends. I feel like I will always be connected to you.”

I confirmed this, asking, “You feel like you will always be connected to Rebecca?”

He said, “Always. Always. ”

Rebecca had mentioned to me that Brutus was the first person close to her to pass away. She wasn’t sure how to handle it.

I told Brutus this, and he said, “I know her heart is breaking, but she needs to understand that it’s not that big a deal. This is just a physical space. It’s not the end of anything. She puts too much stock in her senses. We’re okay.”

I said, “You want her to know that she’s going to get through this, that she’s going to be okay?”

“No, sweetheart, I want her to know that she’s already okay. This body is just my shell. There’s other ways to experience me.”

We had both been crying while we talked. Rebecca said, “He knew exactly what I needed to hear.”

Brutus passed away peacefully the following day, surrounded by his loved ones. He was buried in the yard. Rebecca and her husband, Ron found a heart-shaped rock to mark his place.

Rebecca, Brutie and family

A few days later, I received an email from Rebecca. Part of it read:

“I want you to know that the words you shared with me from my Brutie with his reminder to reach beyond the physical has been a call for me to resume my spiritual practice in a larger way. It is the wake-up call I needed. And was a beautiful gift from him.”

Coco had a challenging time adjusting to a new home.

While they liked each other, Coco seemed lost.

When I first tuned in, Coco told me right away that she was a good dog. She was a very good dog. She wanted Simone to know that.

Simone knew she was a good dog already. Simone was trying very hard to help Coco feel welcome.

What was the disconnect?

Simone had read in my blog about how dogs need a job to do, so when she left the house, she told Coco to “watch the house”. Simone had been worried that Coco wasn’t happy.

Coco and I talked about her job as house-protector.

Coco knew that Simone was worried, but thought she was worried about the house.

“What could happen to the house? How am I supposed to protect it?”

Coco became anxious.

Plus there were those kids next door. Before moving to Simone’s house, Coco lived in a community without kids. She had never seen a kid before.

Coco barked and snarled at them whenever they came to the fence.

I asked Coco about children. She said, “What are they?” She didn’t realize that they were young people. I told her they were like puppies.

She was very worried about them coming into the yard, getting into the house, doing mischievous things. I told her that they wouldn’t do that. I told her that they were like puppies. They were just like puppies and they needed to be treated kindly.
We talked about how if she was nervous, she could go back inside the house or go to the other side of the yard. We talked about how biting a kid would mean that she’d be put to sleep. She got the message.

She liked the idea of going to the other side of the yard.

We talked about her job guarding the house. I told her that her mom just wanted her to have a job to do that she liked. Was there another job she wanted?

“Yes.” She showed herself pulling a long, oblong object. It looked like one of those things you’d put in front of a door to keep the draft out. I told Simone.

Simone asked, “Is it a log? Does Coco want to collect wood for the fireplace?”

I asked Coco “Would you like to collect wood?”

Coco said, “Okay.”

I said, “That wasn’t what you were showing me, huh? What are you showing me?”

Then she showed me the oblong object on a counter. Somebody was cutting thin slices off of it and then putting them on a tray in the oven. They were cookies!

I asked, “Do you want to make cookies?”

“Yes!” Coco said. “And then Simone could tell me about her day. I could listen and say, “That’s nice.” or “That’s too bad.”" She showed me her listening intently to Simone.

“I am a good listener,” she said.

“Yes,” Simone said, “She’s a very good listener. I would love to talk with Coco!”

Simone promised that they’d make cookies and talk.

Sometimes I feel like I’m flying up from a scene, leaving the movie of a life. I imagined Coco and Simone tucked in together, sharing the fire, some conversation and a cookie or two.

Here’s what Simone said about her experience:

Coco has definitely been better around people and kids and I feel better knowing that Coco has a clearer understanding of recent events with my mom (her former owner) and her place in our family now. I really liked getting to know Coco a little better!