Flower Essence Gifts for Animals in Honor of Valentine's Day

It's that time again!

For the fourth consecutive year, clients who request a telepathic consultation with me during the month of February will receive one of the 22 flower essences from the Green Hope Farm Animal Wellness Collection as my special gift.

I often recommend flower essences to help support animals who are exhibiting separation anxiety, jealousy, neediness, inappropriate spraying, physical or emotional pain, or who are suffering from conditions associated with the aging process.  The essences are a natural complement to my telepathic conversations with animals, acting as a form of "aftercare" to support behavioral adjustments.

I love the purity of Green Hope Farm's alcohol-free formulations because there is never any risk that they will interfere with medications or treatments that may have been prescribed by an animal's veterinarian.

I usually charge $90 for a consultation that includes a flower essence, but in February, all clients will receive an essence of their choice at no charge when they pay for a standard $75 session.

New and current clients can request a telepathic consultation for one or more of their animals by visiting the Animal Translations website.

An Alternative Approach to Veterinary Care

Dr. Kevin Landau doesn't prescribe medications for his animal patients, nor does he vaccinate them.  He doesn't X-ray them or inject them with steroids or painkillers, either.  Yet this holistic veterinarian has achieved remarkable results in treating cancer, ulcers, enigmatic lameness, lyme disease, liver failure, seizures, and a variety of ailments and diseases that often resist conventional medicine.

Armed with wispy thin acupuncture needles, a pharmacy of time-tested Chinese herbs, expertise in chiropractic, and knowledge of diagnostic techniques based on Traditional Chinese Medicine, Dr. Landau makes a big difference in the lives of his equine and small animal patients from a base in Pelham, MA, in the heart of the Pioneer Valley.

"When you're working with animals," Dr. Landau explained, during an informal seminar at the Equine Essentials Tack Shop in Oxford, MA on January 17th, "it's important to walk in without a huge agenda.  It's a give and take process between you and the animal."  A member of the Board of Directors of the American Holistic Veterinary Medical Association, Dr. Landau's approach is designed to complement, rather than compete with his patient's primary vet.  "I'm trying to be part of the team," he said.

Rather than simply treat symptoms, Dr. Landau probes for the root cause of an animal's distress, using his holistic training to identify and interpret "patterns of point sensitivities"--those places in the body where the flow of beneficial "chi" may be blocked, creating dis-ease.  Interestingly, an ouchy point in one area may reflect problems in another.  Horses that have stifle pain, for example, often have an imbalance in the stomach meridian.  And there is a point behind the withers--the "wither pocket"--that is very painful in horses who have ulcers.  Dr. Landau uses herbs to "quiet the stomach fire" and by inserting acupuncture needles in the appropriate points on affected meridians, he can often clear the syndrome that is creating the pain.  In addition to applying dry needles, he sometimes injects points with Vitamin B12 or even with an animal's own blood--a process that can stimulate an immune response.

Among the difficult medical cases for which Dr. Landau has created good outcomes are seizure disorders in dogs and horses.  "I can't say that I achieve 100% success by using acupuncture and herbs for seizures, but I can say that I've been able to help my patients a lot," he said.  He's used the same prescription--coupled with nutritional therapy--with horses who have lymphomas and small animals plagued by various forms of cancer.  The tools of his trade--acupuncture, chiropractic, laser, and herbs--are designed to improve the circulation of blood and energy in an animal's body, while decreasing pain and inflammation.  Like conventional veterinarians, Dr. Landau is out to maximize the health, comfort, and performance of his patients.  But he goes about it a lot differently, always enhancing--and never impeding--an animal's natural ability to heal himself.

The Evidence for Animals in the Afterlife

Anyone looking for evidence that our beloved animals in spirit will be waiting for us at the "Rainbow Bridge" when we die would have found it last night during Psychic Medium Joanne Gerber's appearance at the Hampton Inn in Natick, MA.  The three-hour "Holidays Past" event drew an appreciative crowd of about 100, each of whom (including me) had come in hopes of hearing a message from a departed loved one.

Though I was not one of the lucky people who received messages from people they knew, I was far from disappointed.  Joanne Gerber is a well-respected Medium, with proficiency certifications from the Windbridge Institute and from the beneficiary of the event, the Forever Family Foundation, which "furthers the understanding of afterlife science through research and education."  Not only was Joanne generous, compassionate, and grounded, but she was also astonishingly accurate in providing verifiable details about the spirits who were using her energy to communicate with people in the room.

What impressed me, in particular, were the dogs and cats who came through.  There was a bulldog with a spiked collar, "Spike," who Joanne saw while describing the husband of one of the audience members; he had died 17 years ago.  An elderly woman appeared with her cherished cat.  An older man was there with his large, German Shepherd-like dog.  Joanne knew nothing of these people or their pets until they had beckoned her from the spirit world.  What she conveyed was that they and their animal partners had somehow found one another in an unearthly dimension and were still reveling in the joy of their mutual companionship, as if nothing whatsoever had changed.

I was especially moved when Joanne asked if anyone had lost a young golden retriever named "Jack" or "Jake."  A young woman raised her hand and said that yes, that might be her dog:  her golden retriever, "Jykes" (or a similar-sounding name), had died not too long ago.  This dog came through on his own, with no human spirit to accompany him.  When Joanne explained that she heard the dog apologizing for having run away, the woman burst into tears.  Joanne said she saw Jykyes being hit by an 18-wheeler truck.  Sadly, that was exactly what had caused the poor dog's demise.  But lest the dog's former caretaker melt into grief, Joanne was quick to soothe her, sharing a current vision of Jykes gallivanting happily in the afterlife, without a care in the world.

Equine Energy Healer Ginger Krantz to Speak at The Conference on Complementary Animal Healing

Ginger Krantz of Earth Horse Healing will be one of the featured speakers at The Conference on Complementary Animal Healing, to be held at The Holiday Inn in Boxborough, MA on November 11-12, 2012.  The inaugural two-day event is sponsored by Animal Translations; dogs are welcome.

In her New Jersey-based equine therapy practice, Ginger Krantz uses gentle, non-invasive energy healing techniques to speed horses’ recovery from illness, disease, and surgery.  With 22 years of training and experience, Ginger is also able to ease stress-related disorders and resolve behavioral problems by freeing blocked energy within a horse’s body and enabling it to flow, opening the channels for recovery and release.

Ms. Krantz’s presentation, to be delivered at the Conference on Monday morning, November 12, is entitled, “Healing the Horse through the Integration of Mind, Body, and Spirit.”

In addition to Ginger Krantz, The Conference on Complementary Animal Healing will feature Denise Bean-Raymond, author of The Illustrated Guide to Holistic Healing for Horses; noted animal Reiki educator Kathleen Prasad, co-author of Animal Reiki; Shirley Moore, founder of Save A Dog Humane Society ; Nan Martin, an expert in the use of therapeutic essential oils with animals; Dr. Randy Caviness of the Integrative Animal Health Center; and Sally Morgan, a canine and equine physical therapist..

Conference participants may register for one day ($159) or both days ($298).  For more information, visit AnimalHealingConference.com.

Leading Animal Reiki Expert Kathleen Prasad to Headline The Conference on Complementary Animal Healing

Photo:  Jenny Loya

Top animal Reiki educator Kathleen Prasad, author of the recently published Reiki for Dogs and co-author of Animal Reiki: Using Reiki to Heal the Animalsin Your Life, will be a keynote speaker at The Conference on ComplementaryAnimal Healing, to be held at The Holiday Inn in Boxborough, Massachusetts on November 11-12, 2012.  The inaugural event is sponsored by AnimalTranslations.

A resident of San Rafael, CA, Ms. Prasad regularly teaches animal reiki classes at the nearby BrightHaven Healing Arts Center for Animals, a nonprofit, holistic animal retreat.  Her work has been featured in a variety of national publications, including Animal Wellness, Dog Fancy, Dogs Naturally, Equine Wellness, Natural Horse Talk, The Journal of the American Holistic Veterinary Association, and The Whole Dog Journal.

On Sunday, November 11, Kathleen will open the Conference with a presentation entitled, “Honoring the Wisdom of Dogs and Cats,” and later that day, she will lead a healing meditation on “Practicing Peace with Your Animals.”  Kathleen will open the proceedings again on Monday, November 12, when she’ll discuss how Reiki can help and heal horses.

Kathleen will participate in a free “sneak preview” call to discuss her upcoming Conference appearance on Tuesday, October 16 at 8:00pm (EDT).  Anyone can participate by dialing 712-432-0180 and entering code #1063739.

In addition to Kathleen Prasad, The Conference on Complementary Animal Healing will also feature Denise Bean-Raymond, author of The Illustrated Guide to Holistic Care for Horses; Shirley Moore, founder of Save A Dog and co-author of A Healer in Every Home: Dog and Cat Edition; NanMartin, an expert in the use of essential oils with animals; Ginger Krantz, an energy healer who works with horses; Dr. Randy Caviness of the IntegrativeAnimal Health Center; and Sally Morgan, a canine and equine physical therapist.

Conference participants may register for one day ($159) or both days ($298).  For more information, visit the Conference website.

With Hayley Goes a Piece of My Heart

A few weeks before I adopted Hayley six years ago, she faced a veterinarian who was preparing to euthanize her and said, "Not yet."

Not long thereafter, she arrived at a beautiful farm in Harvard on a crisp October day in 2006, and immediately acted like she owned the place.  For five blissful years, she romped through green pastures with her best buddy, Bey:  the two old horses seemed much younger than their years, relishing one another's company and thriving in a drafty old barn that offered all the fresh air they needed.  Hayley galloped and squealed and even jumped into the air.  She didn't look anything like the broken horse I'd first met at Bay State Equine Rescue (BSER), and it was a joy to see her loving her life, maybe for the first time.

Before BSER's Susan Sheridan saved her from the clutches of kill buyers at an auction, Hayley had been hard used, in service as a Premarin mare.  She didn't have a name then, but was known only by her brand, #188.  It was probably her many years of inhumane confinement that decimated Hayley's lungs, and caused her breathing to be compromised for the rest of her days.

She suffered another blow last November, when laminitis claimed Bey.  I felt the depth of Hayley's sadness when I found her at dusk one rainy evening, a few days after Bey died, standing alone in the middle of the paddock where he lay, her head down as low as it could go, as if nothing mattered anymore.

Though we never found another companion for Hayley, she seemed to adjust to spending her days alone, but a certain joie de vivre seemed to have left her when Bey did.  Then came the torrid summer and its relentless humidity, and so did the onslaught of Hayley's breathing problems.  I had hoped that cool mornings would bring some welcome relief, but this year, the early fall breezes seemed powerless to loosen the grip of the long years of damage.

Hayley was failing, but she had always bounced back before, so I continued to hope.  Until yesterday morning, that is, when for the first time in six years, she lay down outside her stall as if she couldn't muster the strength to stay on her feet.  She seemed to respond to the vet's ministrations, and when I left her, after several hours, she was drinking and taking tentative bites of hay.  She'll be fine, I told myself.

She had to be.  Hayley was a mare who taught me how to trust, and how it felt to be trusted.  Who taught me how to love, expecting nothing in return, but getting so much more than I can ever measure.  Our quiet times together were a source of solace in times of stress.  She was always there, nickering a happy hello.

But last night, that voice was silenced forever, though it echoes still in my heart.  Hayley went into serious respiratory distress, and by nightfall, she was in the throes of a colic that wouldn't quit, in spite of everything we did to quell it.  This time, there was no reprieve.  No choice but to say a gentle good-bye.  A little part of me died, too, when she took her last breath.

A sad, sad good-bye to my beautiful Tish

I fell in love with Tish from the moment I first saw her, almost 14 years ago to this day.  She was a happy three-month-old Springer puppy:  the only one of her litter who was still available from her breeder, Sue Sutton of Woodlander Kennels in Maine.  I wasn't sure why Sue hadn't already sold her, but when I saw her, I knew:  Tish was supposed to come home with me.

And from that day to this, Tish rarely left my side.  She was a shy girl who didn't mix well with crowds of people.  In that way, I guess, we were a perfect fit.

On the day I met Tish, Sue mentioned that from the time she'd ventured outdoors, Tish loved to meander through the garden, biting off the blooms of all the flowers she could find.  I laughed off this quirky behavior, until Tish did it in my garden, too.  It didn't matter, though, because there was little mischief Tish could do that wouldn't earn my instant forgiveness.  And when I made mistakes, Tish was quick to forgive me, too.

When I brought Tish home on a beautiful May afternoon in 1998, life seemed so full of hope, of promise.  Tish's exuberance made it easy to believe that our best days were yet to come.  She became the youngest child in a family full of dogs, fitting in beautifully with older Golden Retriever sisters, Ashley and Lady.  And as the self-appointed ambassador of her breed, she welcomed the other homeless Springers who I brought into the fold:  Trudy, Randy, and Liam.  They've all passed into spirit, and now, so has Tish.

For the last several months, I tried to ignore the signs that Tish was not only slowing down, but her body was giving up.  Her eyes became foggy and her ears seemed full of cotton, but I told her each day, as I hugged and caressed and kissed her, "I will keep you safe and take care of you, no matter what comes."  But a series of chronic infections seemed to knock her out with each succeeding recurrence, and by early spring, it was clear that even with treatment, they were taking their toll.

Still, as long as I had Tish, I had hope.  In the last few weeks, that hope had begun to wane, though I couldn't bring myself to admit it.  There were so many little signs.  Once a voracious eater who barked for her food dish each night, Tish halfheartedly picked at her meal.  Once eager to dash through our boundless backyard, Tish now tiptoed tentatively, nervous lest she lose sight of me.  Though she'd always napped next to me while I worked at the computer, she now stayed upstairs, fearful of falling down.  She often seemed vaguely uncomfortable, though it was difficult to pinpoint exactly why.

But Tish soldiered on.  And perhaps it was I who was blind, not fully recognizing what I did not want to see: that Tish was slowly, inexorably, dying in front of my eyes.  And that's why it was such a shock when, at 2:30 this morning, I was awakened by her cries.  She'd somehow fallen down the stairs and landed in the sun room, and as I rushed to her side, I saw that she was disoriented and uncoordinated, unable to stand.  I scooped her up in my arms, and brought her back upstairs, imagining for a moment that I would bring her to the vet's office the minute they opened, so they could patch up whatever had gone wrong.

Within minutes, though, it became clear that Tish was already in the process of leaving her beautiful black and white body, and all I could do was to hold her and stroke her and tell her how much I loved her, knowing that her ears could not hear me but hoping that her heart did.  And then, even as I was trying to grasp the enormity of what was happening, she was gone.

All of us who love dogs are wont to say that we hope our canine companions will "die in their sleep" so that we won't have to make the dreadful decision to help them pass out of their bodies.  Just yesterday, I had found myself thinking that to do that to Tish would feel like killing her.  I knew I would never be able to do it.  I have to wonder if she heard me, and decided to spare me the anguish by making her passage quickly and without warning.  What I know now is that it doesn't matter whether the death of a beloved dog comes at home or in the doctor's office:  it is still excruciating for the people left behind.

But not for Tish, who controlled her own destiny, right to the end, choosing to make her exit the same way she lived her life:  privately, bravely, and with me by her side.  Yet through my tears, I keep asking myself what more I could have done, should have done, to forestall this day.  I never wanted it to come.