Newly Redesigned Website Showcases New Animal Communication Offerings

I'm really excited to announce the unveiling of the new Animal Translations animal communication website!  It's been months in the making, and in addition to spiffy graphics, crisp design, effortless navigation, and updated content, it offers prospective clients a host of reasonably priced options for telepathic consultations aimed at remedying behavioral problems,  answering end-of-life questions, and bringing comfort to people whose animals have recently transitioned into spirit.

In honor of my beloved cat, Casey, the "Casey's Legacy" program underwrites reduced-cost sessions for cats with cancer.  And to help horse people who have adopted recently retired thoroughbreds, I'm now doing consultations for those horses, colloquially known as "OTTBs" (Off-The-Track Thoroughbreds) at a special, lower rate.

Emergency consultations are offered on a same-day basis, and website visitors who just want to browse can sign up for my periodic eNewsletter, What's Up With Animals?, with stories about intriguing cases and news of upcoming events and opportunities.

I'm pleased that I've been able to hold the line on fee increases, in an effort to make my services accessible to everyone who wants or needs them.  The $75 rate for a standard consultation remains the same, as does the $60 charge for a full-service followup session within 90 days of a prior consultation.  The cost of emergency consults has gone up slightly, from $85 to $90, and while the "Cats with Cancer" fee is still discounted, it's now $50, up from $45.

The "Meet Maureen" section of the site includes a link to my recent interview, "The Wonders of Animal Communication," with Alexis Brooks of CLN Radio.  Alexis will be one of the featured speakers at the upcoming Conference on Animals in the Afterlife, to be held at the Holiday Inn in Boxborough, MA on November 3, 2013.  Conference details and registration information are available for the first time through this website rollout, too.

I hope you'll take a look!

A Final Memorial to Casey

I was very touched to receive a letter from The Winn Feline Foundation, letting me know that Casey's primary veterinarian, Dr. Brian Holub of the Countryside Veterinary Hospital in Chelmsford, had made a donation in Casey's memory.

Amidst all of the hurt that I still feel at having lost Casey, it helps to know that her death may in some way contribute to the well-being of other cats. I am extremely grateful to Dr. Holub for remembering Casey in this way, and for everything he did to enhance and preserve Casey's quality of life, often under trying circumstances.

The Winn Feline Foundation is a nonprofit organization that supports studies related to cat health. To-date, it has awarded more than $3 million in grants for research to benefit cats suffering from a variety of conditions, including many types of cancer, upper respiratory problems, and kidney disease.

Dr. Holub himself is a Veterinary Advisor to The Winn Feline Foundation, helping to review grant applications submitted for funding.

Filling the Empty Seat Next to My Heart

Something interesting has happened since Casey died.

Casey was my heart cat; she was literally engulfed in my aura and it felt like she was a part of me whenever we were near. And when we were in the same space, we were almost always in the same place. Literally. Casey slept next to me, and even sat on my chair as I worked. We were almost inseparable.

When Casey was in her physical body, there just wasn't room for my other cats, Neil and Glenda, to get that close. But now, it feels almost like I am in a theatre and there is an empty seat next to me. But not for long. My beautiful, empathetic, charismatic orange tiger, Neil, has slipped into that seat and seems determined to claim my heart. It feels like he is succeeding.

Casey's Last Gift

On the terrible day in November that I had to bring Casey to the vet's office for the last time, something unusual happened.

At my request, Dr. Gifford had administered a sedative, prior to the final injection, so that Casey would be relaxed and calm before she drifted into her permanent sleep.

As the relaxant took effect, Casey laid on her side, without moving, and I looked deeply into her eyes, stroking her and whispering how much I loved her.

Casey began to slowly and deliberately blink her eyes. I had never noticed her doing that before, and I wasn't sure why she was doing it now, at this fateful moment. As I struggled to keep my turbulent emotions in check, my telepathic prowess deserted me; there was no time to ask Casey or intuit what she meant.

So it was with tremendous gratitude and wonder that I stumbled upon a moving explanation of this gesture in Dusty Rainbolt's engaging book, Ghost Cats: Human Encounters with Feline Spirits (which I will be reviewing in the December issue of my monthly eNewsletter, "What's Up With Animals?"):

"A slow blink is one of the ways that cats communicate affection--sort of a kitty kiss."

I now realize that Casey was saying, "I love you," one last time. She was saying, "good-bye," in the only way she could, and I will always treasure that memory.

A Sad Farewell to a Beloved Feline Friend

My dear beloved Casey's earthly journey ended peacefully this morning, shortly before 10am. I truly feel that I have lost my soul's sister.

Casey and I shared an unconditional love, and a bond that death may bend, but will not break. She had beautiful, intelligent, wide green eyes, but when they lost their lustre, I knew that I could not ask her to linger any longer in her physical body.

In one of the last photos I took of her, just 8 days ago, on November 18th, 15-year-old Casey still retained the spark and curiosity and joie de vivre of her younger days, even though she had become more pensive and deliberate as a result of the cancer that had wracked her little body for many months.

Casey had been diagnosed with an unspecified adenocarcinoma at the beginning of March, when a large growth was removed from one of her anal glands by Dr. Brian Holub of the Countryside Veterinary Hospital in Chelmsford.

Henceforth, I chose to support her by a combination of homeopathic remedies prescribed by Dr. Charles Loops, coupled with supplements and acupuncture treatments by Drs. Randy Caviness and Carol Gifford at the Integrative Animal Health Center in Bolton. Casey seemed to be thriving and doing very well until the end of August, when I noticed that she had developed a slight limp. An ultrasound confirmed my dreaded suspicions: the cancer had spread throughout many areas of Casey's body, and the prognosis was deemed to be "very grave."

But I did not give up, and neither did Casey. We dug in together, as a team, and increased the frequency of her acupuncture appointments, working primarily with Dr. Gifford to stimulate Casey's immune system, tempt her with a variety of foods, and keep her as balanced and as comfortable and as healthy as we could, given the circumstances. And Casey held her own for three more months, until just a few days ago, when her breathing became labored. On Monday, X-rays revealed that the cancer had invaded Casey's lungs. We had finally reached a mountain we could not climb.

Casey never felt sorry for herself, no matter what challenges the cancer threw at her. When an enlarged lymph node pressed against her spine and ultimately led to the loss of feeling in her left hind leg, Casey soldiered on, undeterred. She deftly ran up and down the stairs, and was able to claw her way to the top of my bed until just a few days ago.

I had known that we would not defeat the cells that were marching out of control throughout Casey's body, but I had hoped to keep them at bay a little longer. As Casey and I faced her health challenges, we became even closer than we had ever been before, and I knew, as I single-mindedly devoted myself to her care, that it would make it even more painful when I had to say good-bye.