The Way of a Cat

Cats have an energy that is different from dogs, that's for sure.  And that's true when it comes to telepathic communication, too.

When you call to a dog, he'll usually acknowledge you right away; there's not much of a lapse between the time you send the message and the time you receive a response.

But as I realized yesterday when I addressed my cat, Neil, his style is quite different.  Neil was cozily ensconced near a sunny window, alternately waking and sleeping on a quiet winter afternoon.  I said "hello" to him as I walked by, and was surprised when he acted like he hadn't even heard me.  But I knew he had.  I stopped to watch what he would do, and then, after perhaps 45 seconds had passed, he slowly turned his head, looked up at me, smiled, and returned the greeting.

That's interesting, because if I had been communicating telepathically with Neil from a remote location (or even the next room), I might have jumped to the conclusion that he hadn't heard me, or worse, that I wasn't hearing him.  What I saw today in Neil made me realize that cats can be quite considered and deliberate in the way they respond to a request or an inquiry, whether it's spoken aloud or in silence. 

I'll remember that the next time I'm talking telepathically to a cat who's far away, and try to create the time and space for him to respond--in his own time.

Speaking Out for Horses

I am pleased to announce that I have been named to be the national Equine Advocacy columnist for Examiner.com.    I'm truly honored to have this vehicle for my passionate interest in protecting horses.  I don't write for the money; I do it because I want to bring awareness to situations in which horses are suffering, or not being treated with dignity.  And I do it to shine an appreciative light on those who are quietly working to save them.

I've been writing as the Boston Animal Advocacy columnist since June, 2009, but I wanted to be able to address equine welfare issues that are affecting horses on a national level. 

During my first week as the Equine Advocacy Examiner, I've written about the tragedy of the BLM wild horse roundups in Nevada, the plight of carriage horses in New York City, the Penn National jockey protest against owner Michael Gill, the desperation of horse owners affected by the recession, and the upcoming changes in Canadian regulations that may reduce the number of horses that are sent to be slaughtered there.

I am reaching out to everyone who cares about horses, and want to hear from you if you think there's something I should be writing about. 

Losing Liam, Finding My Heart

Liam wandered away on the evening of Christmas Eve.  I can write those words calmly now, but when it happened, I will admit that I lost my cool.  I did exactly what you should never do when you fear a beloved animal companion is lost:  I panicked.

I had opened the door simply to let Liam and his Springer sister, Tish, relieve themselves.  They know the drill.  Go out, do their thing, and come right back in, to be rewarded with a "cookie."

But for whatever reason on this dark winter's night, Liam chose to mosey through the snow, deep into our wooded backyard, ignoring my gesticulations and verbal pleas to turn around and come back.  The snow was several inches deep, and without boots, I couldn't follow him.  But I couldn't take my eyes off him, either.  I just stood there, powerless, as if watching a slow-motion movie.  Liam kept sauntering away, literally deaf to what had become my screams, verging on hysteria:  "Liam!  Come back!"

I ran back into the house, quickly slipped into my boots, and rushed outside again, now running frantically back and forth, pausing intermittently in the hopes of hearing the sound of Liam plodding through the snow.  But all was silent, except for my racing heart.

Tears streamed down my face as I rushed into the mud room and snapped a leash onto Tish's collar, thinking that maybe somehow, she'd be able to track Liam down.  It was my only chance, at that point.  I feared that Liam would become confused in the thick woods behind the barn, or fall through thin ice in the frozen wetlands, and soon lose his bearings.  "I'll never find him," I thought.  "This can't be happening."

With each passing minute, my hopes of ever finding Liam were diminishing, and I realized how inadequately I had prepared for something like this.  Ever since Liam arrived, at the end of October, it had been my intention to forge a clear telepathic pathway between us, one that wouldn't need to rely on hand signals or facial expressions, but only on intention.  We were beginning to develop a mutual understanding, but I wasn't sure if it was strong enough yet for me to be able to reel Liam back by using my heart's thoughts alone.

As I stopped to ponder what to do next, I saw something moving, out of the corner of my eye.  It was Liam!  There he was, totally unruffled, calmly walking up the driveway as if nothing had ever happened.  He had completed a 360 degree spin around the property while my mind had been running in circles.  He seemed oblivious to the commotion, and wondered what the fuss was all about as I smothered him with hugs and kisses.

In the moments before Liam reappeared, I realized how precious he has become to me, and how disconsolate I would be if I ever really lost him.  And so our mission is clear:  we'll work together to create our own "language," one based on our mutual affection, rather than on words or signs.  I know we can do it, and I know we must do it.  Liam's life might depend on it someday.

The Dachshund and the Doughnut

I recently had the pleasure of communicating with a discerning dachshund gentleman whom I'll call, "Danny."  He is a self-confident dog who knows his mind, and also know how to use pictures to convey what's important to him.

During the course of our telepathic conversation, Danny showed me small pieces of cake, which looked like they had been punched out of the center of a doughnut, much like a McDonald's "Munchkin."  It seemed to me that Danny considered these doughnut holes to be tasty treats, so I mentioned them, in passing, to his person, Marcie.

I was fascinated by what she told me.  "To be honest," she said, "I'm not really sure where Danny is getting that image, because I can't ever remember giving him doughnuts or doughnut holes."  Marcie thought for a moment, and then acknowledged that she gives Danny Cheerios (which look like miniature doughnuts, in a way), so we both thought that must be it.  But, she added, "It's funny that you got a picture of a doughnut, because another animal communicator got the same thing."

Now that's pretty interesting.  Even though no one is really sure why Danny seems to be obsessed with doughnuts, the fact that he telepathically transmitted that idea to two unrelated animal communicators who talked with him on different occasions, makes it much easier--even for a skeptic--to believe that his message was real.

Give a Gift, Get a Gift

I'm pleased to announce a "Give a Gift, Get a Gift" promotion, just in time for the holiday season!

Through December 31st, 2009, purchasers of gift certificates for a telepathic consultation with me will receive a complimentary flower essence from the renowned Green Hope Farm Animal Wellness Collection.

Gift certificates for Animal Translations consultations are priced at $65. 

Purchasers will be able to select their own gift of one of the 22 flower essence blends from Green Hope Farm's Animal Wellness Collection, each of which supports an animal's emotional, physical, mental and spiritual well-being in specific ways.  These custom-designed flower essence formulas are alcohol-free and are safe for all animal species.  They include blends for Abandonment and Abuse, Animal Emergency Care, Anxiety, Breathing, Caretakers, Digestive Woes, Pests ("Flee Free"), Urinary Tract Health ("Flow Free"), Grief & Loss, Healthy Coat, Immune Support, Jealousy, Neediness, New Beginnings, Outbursts, Recovery, Running & Playing, Senior Citizens, Separation, Showcats, Spraying, and Transitions.  Each comes in a 1/2 ounce blue cobalt bottle containing more than 300 drops.

Animal Translations gift certificates can be purchased through the "Consultations" section of the website.

The Gift of Liam

"Bridge" was the name they assigned to the pitifully thin, liver and white springer spaniel with the soulful eyes.  Someone heard him whimpering under a bridge in Templeton, MA on a rainy night in late August.  He'd beey laying there for many long days and nights, unable to move.

Deb Giordano, the town's Animal Control officer, climbed down a greasy ravine and scooped the shivering dog into her arms.  He'd been hit by a car, she surmised, rolled down the hill, and been left to die. 

She determined to save him.  There was something in those eyes that said, "Don't give up on me."  Deb didn't.

She rushed him to the shelter and threw bunches of blankets and towels in the dryer to heat them up.  She wrapped the maggot-infested springer in the warm folds, and gradually, he started to look less like a drowned animal and more like an old, tired dog who desperately needed help.  Anyone else might have decided that the best way to help him would have been to euthanize him. Not Deb.  There was something in this springer's eyes that told her he wanted a chance.  She decided he deserved one, in spite of all the odds.

Bridge needed extreme care.  In addition to the maggots feeding on his wounds, his ears were infected, he was festering with fleas, his joints ached with pain, and he was emaciated.   A blood test would reveal the presence of heartworms.  It became clear that Bridge's troubles had begun long before he'd been knicked by a car. 

Two weeks after he arrived at the shelter, Bridge slowly wagged his tail for the first time.  That was the sign Deb had been looking for.  She marshalled the shelter's limited resources to treat his body, and she devoted herself to nourish his soul.  Magically, it worked.

Yesterday, several weeks after I first met him, I took Bridge home.  As I gently laid him on the soft quilt in the back of my car, I silently told him that he had a proud new name, "Liam."  And with that, he let out a big sigh, and contentedly fell asleep. 

Schedule a Communication With Your Dog at a Special Price During Adopt-A-Dog Month

To help promote the American Humane Society's Adopt-a-Dog Month and to support canine caretakers everywhere, I'm offering telepathic communication sessions with dogs for the special price of $40 throughout October. 

If you've ever thought of asking an animal communicator to talk with your dog, there's no better time!

This offer is open to all dogs (not just those who have been recently adopted), and the telepathic consultations can explore virtually any topic, including details about a dog's life and circumstances prior to being adopted by their current people, how your dog feels about the members of his family (humans and animals!), or issues relating to your dog's unexplained behavioral quirks, fears, habits, or temperament.

By tuning into an animal telepathically, you can uncover jewels of information that can help to foster a more profound understanding between the species.  And sometimes, dogs who are reluctant to express themselves will open up to an animal communicator, because the interaction is completely nonthreatening.

Dog people who would like to take advantage of this month's special offer can request a consultation with their canine companions by visiting the "Consultations" section of the Animal Translations website.  The $40 fee includes a 30-45 minute session with each dog, a typed transcript of the session, and a followup phone call to discuss the findings.