On The Couch

Sometimes I feel like an animal psychotherapist.  So often, something magical happens after a consultation, just because I've made a heartfelt effort to deeply listen to an animal's complaints, concerns, or fears, and sincerely acknowledge them.  Those fears might seem silly or inconvenient, but I take them seriously.  And in doing so, I've honored and respected the animal I'm talking to, letting her know that she has a right to her feelings, whatever others might think.

This is what happened with Maggie, a magnificent Hanoverian mare with whom I've had the privilege of communicating on several occasions over the course of more than a year.  Maggie is a brave and talented eventer, and it takes a lot to scare her.  But of late, she'd been showing signs of stress when she was turned out in a large, lush pasture bordered by tall trees and woods.  Rather than relaxing in this green paradise, Maggie had been anxiously pacing the fence, as if begging to come in.  No one knew why.  To our human minds, it made no sense.

When I connected with Maggie, I mentally put myself into her body to see what it felt like to be out there in the expansive grassy paddock, alone.  I could immediately feel her sense of vulnerability:  there was something unseen looming in the woods beyond the field and Maggie worried that it might spring forth to pounce on her.  A hawk flew overhead:  it, too, felt like a threatening presence in a wide open place where there was no place to hide.

I let Maggie know that I understood why she might feel worried, and gently suggested that she had the power to flee, to run if danger should appear.  She said she might be happier in a smaller pen, closer to the barn, and I passed that on to her dear person, Polly.

That was yesterday.  This morning, Polly sent me this photo of Maggie happily grazing out in the big field alone, showing no signs of care or stress.  Same field, same woods, but something had shifted.  There may be many explanations for Maggie's new-found feeling of comfort in her surroundings, but I believe that as soon as she knew her fears were validated, she let them go.

I Hear You

There are times during a telepathic consultation with an animal that information "just flies in."  I start getting images, impressions, opinions or feelings that seem random:  neither the animal's person nor I have asked about them, but they often reveal something important.

It happens all the time.  Most recently, I was talking with a handsome Irish Sport Horse, Quinn, about issues related to his training.  Before I could even broach the questions his rider had submitted, Quinn interrupted me to convey that his hay seemed dry, with a lot of twigs and indigestible stems.  He said he really didn't care for it, and asked whether it could be dipped in water, to make it more palatable.

When I mentioned that to Quinn's person, Sarah, she confirmed that the barn had recently received a shipment of hay that a lot of the boarders felt was too dry.  In fact, Quinn had experienced a bout of colic shortly after the hay had arrived, and Sarah had been wondering whether the stray-like forage was the culprit.  She thought it was intriguing that Quinn had mentioned it to me; she'd never thought to ask him about it.

A few days later, I received a photo depicting a corner of Quinn's stall that made me realize that I'd definitely been talking with the right horse.  It showed a fresh pile of manure neatly placed on top of the offending hay.  In case anyone hadn't gotten the message, Quinn wanted to make his assessment of the forage perfectly clear:  it would do for bedding, but definitely not for eating!

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!

Popsicles for Blazey

It was on one of the hottest days of the summer that I communicated with Blazey, a 15-year-old dark bay quarter horse with whom I've had the pleasure of conducting remote conversations before.  While we talked, Blazey wandered aimlessly around his paddock in Rhode Island, while I sweltered in front of a fan in my office, an hour away.  Telepathy fueled our connection.

Blazey was chatting amiably about his accommodations, freely sharing his opinions about the quality of his hay, the cleanliness of his water buckets, and the neatness of his stall.  He doesn't hold back his assessments, and though we've never met, I've long been enamored with Blazey's facility at long-distance communication.

Our last session had occurred more than a year ago, when his person, Joan, had asked me to tune into him because he'd been injured.  I didn't know how, when, or why, but those details turned out not to matter, because Blazey promptly let me know that something terrible had happened to his left front foot.  He reeled off what looked like a show-motion movie, in which I could see that he had torn off a shoe while he was running in his paddock, and as a result, his foot was being soaked, and had been wrapped in some type of boot.  He showed me that he'd been confined to his stall, with hand-walking his only exercise.

It turned out that not only had Blazey's shoe been sheared off in the incident, but with it, a weighty chunk of his left front hoof.  His injury was quite serious and it was only through the intervention of a team of expert equine veterinarians that he made a miraculous recovery.  Equally miraculous was the accuracy with which Blazey had conveyed to me the particulars of his accident and his daily aftercare, down to the smallest specific of his rehabilitation regimen.

And so I was a bit puzzled this time, when, as part of our exchange of thoughts and feelings, Blazey showed me what seemed to be a picture of popsicles.  I assumed that perhaps he'd seen barn people taking frosty bites of the colored ices-on-a-stick, but wasn't quite sure why they would have made such an impression on him.

When I shared the popsicle puzzle with Joan, she laughed, confessing that she regularly brings Blazey a special summer treat, in the form of frozen carrots.  Of course!  They look a lot like popsicles, sans the sticks!

My trust in Blazey's telepathic abilities was renewed.  Like so many horses, he's consistently been able to communicate by telegraphing vivid color pictures of the world around him.  We can all learn to "see" what they are saying, simply by closing our eyes.

The Conference on Animals in the Afterlife

After months in the planning, I am pleased to announce the opening of registration for The Conference on Animals in the Afterlife, which will be held at the Holiday Inn in Boxborough, MA on Sunday, November 3, 2013.

I've grown increasingly interested in exploring this topic since I read Kim Sheridan's ground-breaking book, Animals and the Afterlife several years ago.  It's with immense pleasure that I can tell you that Kim has agreed to appear at the Conference as its keynote speaker.  In a gentle and fully believable way, Kim tells reassuring stories of spirit animals who have been seen, heard, and felt, by people who wondered if they could possibly be real.  They were.

My own work with animals in spirit has amazed me and brought comfort to my grieving clients.  Again and again, these animals have been able to convey cherished memories, show me graphic images of treasured times with their people, and relate specific details that could not have been fabricated.  I will be sharing some of their stories during my conference presentation.

The other featured speakers include Jeff Belanger, the intrepid paranormal investigator, who will describe ghostly apparitions by paranormal pets, and CLN Radio's Alexis Brooks, who will expand on her compelling article about the phenomenon of animal reincarnation that was published in last December's Conscious Life News.  Alexis will discuss her own experience with the reincarnation of her beloved cat, "Paws," who reappeared in her life in the body of her new cat, "Clover."

The gifted psychic medium, Joanne Gerber, will mingle with conference attendees and the spirits of their departed loved ones--including, we hope, their animals--in a dramatic finale to what promises to be a thoroughly amazing day.  I wrote about one of Joanne's gallery events in a previous post that chronicled her uncanny accuracy to bring forth not only the friends and relatives of those present, but their deceased animal companions.

Whether you come as a skeptic or as a believer, you'll leave this event knowing that these afterlife connections are possible for you and the animals who have meant so much to you, no matter how many months or years it's been since you said good-bye.

More information about The Conference on Animals in the Afterlife, including the agenda and registration forms, is available here.

I hope you'll join us.

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.

Using Telepathy with Horses

My Sweet HayleyJ

If you're in Massachusetts, I hope you'll stop by for my free lecture on using telepathy with horses at the Equine Essentials Tack Shop in Oxford, MA on March 22nd.

Horses have a much deeper awareness of our intentions and our thoughts than most of us can imagine.  By learning how to see the world through your horse's telepathic eyes, and by being open to the possibility that your horse can transmit very real silent messages that transcend his body language, you'll uncover a new dimension in your relationship with him, one that at times can seem even magical.

I'm speaking at Equine Essentials as part of their winter "Fourth Thursday" lecture series, which has also featured Dr. Anna Crane of New England Animal Chiropractic, Karen Withstandley of The Refined Equine, Cheryl Anderson of ABC Hoofcare, and Sarah Charest of Stepping Stone Farm Psychotherapy.

In addition to talking about my telepathic work with horses,  I'll describe my ongoing "Barn Visits" program, whereby I do onsite consultations at local stables throughout most of Massachusetts.  Everyone who attends will have an opportunity to win a complimentary remote consultation for one of their animals.  

The free talk will begin at 6:30pm on Thursday, March 22nd at Equine Essentials Tack Shop, 2 Fairlawn Ave., Oxford, MA.  Light refreshments will be served.  You can RSVP by calling 508-731-0071. 

Flower Essences: My February Gifts to You and Your Animals

In honor of Valentine's Day, I'm offering the gift of a complimentary flower essence from the Green Hope Farm Animal Wellness Collection to everyone who schedules a consultation with me this month.

I often recommend flower essences to support my clients after a telepathic consultation, and have received lots of positive feedback about their efficacy.  The 22 essences from Green Hope's Animal Wellness collection are gently supportive and alcohol-free, making them ideal for horses, dogs, cats, and other animals.  They are formulated to help ease problems such as separation anxiety, skin irritations, jealousy, emotional outbursts, and inappropriate spraying.  Other blends assist in the recovery from surgery or serious illness and in easing past trauma or abuse.

Through the end of February, I'll send the essence of a client's choice with each standard telepathic consultation.  If you'd like to take advantage of the offer, just request a session through the Animal Translations website.

A special offer for horses in spirit

I realized I wouldn't be able to see War Horse when I could barely watch the trailer without choking up.

While I know that no horses were harmed during the actual shooting of the film, I also know that millions of horses who heroically risked their lives in wartime service to their countries, lost them.  Steven Spielberg has got me thinking about them, not just the horse of the story, who somehow made it back home alive.

It's with that in mind that I'm offering a special rate ($60) for consultations with horses in spirit this month, through the end of January.

As I start my sixth year as a professional animal communicator, I am increasingly awed by the richness of the stories shared by animals with whom I've connected, and especially by those who have left their bodies for life in a new dimension that we don't fully understand.  In virtually every case, the now-departed animals have provided verifiable information derived from their daily experiences with their human companions, and have brought a drop of comfort to the people who desperately miss them on this side of the veil.

If you're interested in a session for your horse in spirit, you can request a session at the Animal Translations website. If you want to pay by PayPal, just use the $60 followup rate.

Through the end of this year, I'm offering a 20% discount on telepathic consultations with all animals whose breed begins with the letter "G."

The reduced rates this month apply to German Shepherds, German Shorthaired Pointers, Giant Schnauzers, Golden Retrievers, Gordon Setters, Great Danes, Great Pyrenees, Greyhounds, Gypsy Vanners, and to all other breeds of dogs, cats, horses, or other animals whose breed begins with the seventh letter of the alphabet.


 Both new and current clients of Animal Translations are invited to take advantage of this program.

I'll continue the "ABCs of Animal Communication" promotion next year, when it will resume with the letter "H."

The standard fee for an animal communication consultation is $75.  Clients whose animals qualify for the reduced rate this month can purchase a session for $60 by visiting the Animal Translations website.

Emilie's Spirit Messages

A large measure of the anguish we inevitably feel when cherished animal companions die is the knowing that we will never see them again.  We can no longer caress them, walk with them, talk to them.  The sense of having a door irrevocably shut stings; there seems to be no way to open it again or to recover a semblance of the relationship that brought so much pleasure for so many years.  Only the pain is left in its wake.

But it does not have to be that way, as I've discovered through many "conversations" with animals in spirit, even years after they've abandoned their physical bodies.  And the vibrancy with which our animals live on was brought home again in a dramatic way, during a recent session with a beautiful springer spaniel, Emilie, the soulmate of a woman named Mollie.

All I knew about Emilie was that she had died.  I didn't know how or when.  Mollie wanted the consultation simply to see if Emilie was okay, and whether there were details of their life together that she would be able to share.

As soon as I tuned into her, Emilie came into focus as sharply as any living dog.  She gave the impression that there had been some congestion in her chest, and also mentioned problems with one of her eyes.  Mollie confirmed that the condition that had led to Emilie's death was a large tumor on her chest; she had also suffered from eye infections throughout her life.

Later in our session, Emilie revealed that her role in Mollie's life was as a surrogate child:  she hinted that Mollie had either miscarried, or that she couldn't have children.  That information seemed so personal that I wasn't sure how to relay it to Mollie, so I simply wrote, "She considered herself to be your baby, and there was a feeling that she was almost a surrogate child."

When she read that, Mollie gasped.  In fact, Mollie had indeed suffered a series of miscarriages, and had never had children.  She very much viewed her relationship with Emilie in precisely the way that Emilie had suggested, and I got chills when Mollie finally told me that Emilie had died nine years ago.  "I'm just flabbergasted," she admitted.  "Your session with Emilie brought back a lot of emotions."

What it taught me, yet again, is that the profound connection we forge with our animals is never broken, only changed.  They are still there for us, and though we do not fully understand how this can happen, it does not alter the fact that the ties between us remain real.

How Horses Mourn

Photo:  Fran Hendershaw

Bay Bey's stall is still untouched, with clean bedding and wisps of hay scattered here and there.  Nothing about it belies the dreadful fact that when he tiptoed out the door yesterday afternoon, it was for the last time.  Like so many fallen horses--both famous and nondescript--Bey lost his life to the ravages of laminitis:  his elderly but still proud presence had withered in its wake.

The only kind thing was to let him go, and that is what Gwen regretfully did, loving her friend of 29 years more than fearing the grief that would engulf her as his spirit left him.

Hayley watched behind locked doors as Bey was led away, but she protested and paced and called to him, without understanding the awful truth of what was to come.  She would never again be able to run her lips lovingly over his withers, or play-race him uphill for supper at the end of a late summer's day.  For more than five years now, they've been constant, faithful companions, rarely leaving each other's side and luxuriating in their peaceful friendship as one by one, the seasons passed.

By the time Hayley was released from her prison, Bey had been laid to rest in a deep grave in the corner of a grassy paddock, gently placed next to Gwen's old Arab mare, Gracie, who had died only a few months after Hayley's arrival at the tranquil Harvard farmstead.  All Hayley knew now was that Bey was missing, and she galloped wildly through every inch of the three fenced pastures, tossing her head and shrieking with fear and disbelief that she could not find him.

An observer saw Hayley persist in her desperate search for quite a while before she abruptly stopped at the spot where several feet of fresh dark dirt covered Bey's body.  Hayley smelled the air and she sniffed the ground, and she even stood right on top of the neatly smoothed-over patch, as if Bey were but hiding behind an earthen door and could reappear at her beckoning.  

I arrived as darkness encompassed the barn and sensed that Hayley seemed distracted, but not yet fully resigned to the finality of having been left behind, and alone.  She still seemed to have hope.

By today, something had shifted.  Hayley's thick winter coat was drenched with sweat even as dusk's coolness came, and though she seemed more composed, I knew that she must have spent the day running her heart out.  There was something about her tonight that brought all of the sadness of losing Bey back again, with full force.  Her whole self seemed deflated of the joy of anticipation, and for many long minutes she did nothing but yawn and yawn and yawn, as if a terrible tiredness had settled in.

I wanted so much to protect Hayley, but not by pretending that her search would be fulfilled.  With that thought in mind, I slowly opened the door to Bey's stall, and watched as Hayley strolled in, repeating a pattern I'd witnessed hundreds or thousands of times.  We had so often found them huddled together in a place meant for one, preferring crowded camaraderie to the relative spaciousness of an unshared stall.

This time, Hayley strode in carefully, and silently snorted through every inch of the now vacant stall, poking under leftover hay strands with perked ears.  But suddenly and in slow motion, she seemed to understand what I was trying to show her, and she ambled out of Bey's space with her head hanging down just as low as it would go. 

Alone now in her own stall, Hayley sighed deeply, then nickered for dinner.  She seems to know that her life will go on, but it will never be the same, for any of us. 

Discounts for Fjords, Friesians, Field Spaniels and French Bulldogs

Through the end of November, I'm offering a 20% discount on telepathic consultations with all animals whose breed begins with the letter "F."

The reduced rates this month apply to Fjords, Friesians, Field Spaniels, Flat Coated Retrievers, French Bulldogs, and to all other breeds of dogs, cats, horses, or other animals whose breed begins with the sixth letter of the alphabet.  Both new and current clients of Animal Translations are invited to take advantage of this program.

I'll continue the "ABCs of Animal Communication" promotion in December, when it will be offered to breeds that begin with the letter "G."

The standard fee for an animal communication consultation is $75.  Clients whose animals qualify for the reduced rate this month can purchase a session for $60 by visiting the Animal Translations website.

Welcome home, Tennessee

When I saw Tennessee's picture on PetFinder, it called to me.  There was something about the soulful expression of this sweet-looking dog that made me want to meet him, even though I couldn't imagine that he hadn't already found the perfect home.

As it turned out, he hadn't, and his kind foster Mom, Marie, graciously invited me to drive down to her home in Connecticut to see if we might be a match.  When I arrived there this morning, Tennessee greeted me a bit tentatively before I could even get out of my car, letting out a few half-hearted woofs, as if he considered it his duty to announce my arrival.  But he soon approached me with polite curiosity, and seemed to welcome the gentle touch of my hands and fingers as they caressed his soft body.  Marie said this was the first time Tennessee had shown such interest in a prospective adopter, and I cautiously held my breath, hoping that the spell wouldn't be broken.

It wasn't.  With each passing moment in the company of this doe-eyed dog, I could feel my heart melting more.  I can't say it was love at first sight, because I could see how much Tennessee loved Marie, and I knew that if it were up to him, he'd happily have stayed with her forever.  But at the same time, I sensed that this cinnamon-coated boy might let me into his special world, too.  He willingly jumped into the back seat of my car, though he started to fret a bit when he realized that we were literally leaving his comfort zone.  Once on the highway, he settled right in, and even relaxed enough to take a nap.

It was what happened when we got here that seemed so remarkable.  Within seconds after we walked in the door, my feisty cat, Django, marched right up to "Tenny" to welcome him, immediately sensing that the big dog meant him no harm.  His older brother, the orange tiger, Neil, soon followed, never even blinking as he ventured close enough to sniff.  So far, so good.

If I had any concerns about how my dear Springer Spaniel, Tish, would react to the newcomer, they vanished when she simply looked at Tenny as if he had always lived here.  And honestly, that's how it feels.

Welcome home, Tennessee.  Welcome home.