Christmas Day

As Christmas approached this year, I was filled with a certain amount of dread. I suspected it was going to be a tough holiday for me, since it would be my first Christmas in 14 years without my precious Lucky. So many things to get used to, so many ways to feel her absence.

I had already endured the process of going to the mountains to get a tree without her, and while I could feel her spirit with me that day, it just wasn't the same. When it came to decorating the tree, I was overwhelmed by how much I missed having her here to bring me her tennis ball every 2 minutes. (Lucky didn't like it much when something other than her got that much of my attention, so she was always determined to get me to play with her as much as I was "playing" with the tree while I was decorating it).

I knew I needed to find a way to get through the rest of the holiday season with as much peace as possible. I knew I also needed to allow myself the space to grieve her absence if that's what I needed to do. I received several wonderful offers to join friends for Christmas gatherings but as the day grew closer, the only thing that seemed right was for me to spend the day at the beach.

Lucky and I went to the beach last year on Christmas day and while we weren't able to go to our regular beach, (Lucky's back end was too weak by then and there are over 70 steps to get down to our usual spot), we found another beach a mile or so down the coast with no stairs. We had a lovely time - the perfect way for us to celebrate Christmas. The beach was always our most favorite place in the world. I think being at the ocean soothed her soul as much as it soothed mine.

So, with a little bit of trepidation, I headed over the hill on Christmas day to hang out at me and Lucky's favorite beach. I brought along pictures from the last year of Lucky's life, so that I could visually reflect on the last year, and filled my pockets with kleenex.

As I stood at the stop of the stairs, looking down at the beach, I was flooded with memories of the hundreds of trips Lucky and I had made to this particular beach. I was fighting back tears as I made my way down the 70+ steps, trying to remind myself to just breath and be present.

The weather was beautiful. I knew half way down the steps that I wasn't going to need the jacket I was wearing and that I probably should have put sunscreen on my face. As I made my descent, I continued feeling a mixture of emotions . . . it felt so good to be back there again, and yet, it was so hard to be there without Lucky. I thought about the millions of times I threw the tennis ball for her on this beach, the hundreds of sandwiches we had shared, the way she made me laugh and feel full of life when we were there together.

We went to this beach year round, so over the years, we experienced every kind of weather possible and I giggled to myself as I remembered the time we were there on an incredibly windy day. I was miserable, but Lucky was having so much fun, I forced myself to stay, trying my best to find the positive . . . and finally decided rather than focusing on how much the sand blasting against my face and legs was hurting me, I'd look at it as a free micro-derm abrasion treatment, compliments of mother nature. :-)

I made my way down close to the surf and sat down on my jacket. For a little while, I just took in the sights and sounds and smells. I watched people walk by and remembered how much Lucky loved to bring her ball to everyone who passed by. We always made friends with people at the beach because Lucky was determined to share her joy with everyone we encountered.

I pulled the pictures out of my backpack that I had brought with me and cried as I looked at them and thought about our last year together. There is such a huge void in my life now that she is gone and in some ways, it felt wrong to be there without her. I found myself scanning the beach to the left and to the right, looking for a german shepherd but there were none. I saw just about every other breed imaginable but no shepherds.

I missed her so much, I was fighting off one of those all out 'ugly cries' that you typically don't want to do in public. I tried to focus on what I love about the beach, besides being there with Lucky. Seeing the way the sun reflects off the water, hearing the sound of the waves crash, as the next set gets ready to roll in . . . those are the things that have always soothed my soul so I put my attention there. I pulled out my camera and took a few pictures.

A few minutes later, a darling little dog came running up to me. I couldn't tell what type of breed she was or even how old she was. She was just small and darling. She put her paws on my leg so she could reach my face and then she licked me on the forehead. Her guardian came running over, apologizing to me, and explaining that they had just adopted her from the shelter two days earlier and they hadn't trained her yet. I told him I wasn't bothered at all and then got choked up as I tried to tell him that it was my first trip to the beach since my dog had passed away and that I sensed his sweet little dog knew I needed some comfort. I was embarrassed by how teary I got but he was very kind. He expressed his condolences and then picked her up and carried her back over to where his friends were standing.

Minutes after he placed her back on the sand, she came running back over to me again. I smiled and said hello. She put her paws on my leg again, so she could look me in the eye and she said, "They want me to tell you that everything is going to be OK." The tears started to flow as I kissed her on the forehead and thanked her for delivering the message. She sat quietly with me for a few minutes as I pet her and then she got up and ran back to her guardian.

As I sat there, I realized I didn't know who "they" was for sure . . . I hadn't thought to ask her. I was so blown away by the message, I wasn't thinking straight for a few minutes. I sensed "they" was not her guardian and his friends. I wondered if "they" was Lucky and Maggie, Brandy, Clancy and Murphy, the dogs I had as a child . . . or if "they" was Lucky and Hanna, Bood, Lucy and Montana, my precious animal clients who have made their transition in the last 6 months. It didn't really matter who the "they" was though . . . to me the most important thing was the realization that someone was looking out for me that day, that someone wanted me to know that everything was going to be OK.

As I continued to sit there, watching the waves roll in, I realized that the heaviness I had been feeling all day had lifted. It was an undeniable shift. Suddenly, I didn't have to try to focus on what I loved about being at the beach . . . I just felt it in every cell of my body. I soaked up the beauty of my surroundings, I breathed in the peacefulness and the comfort it gave me. It just felt so good to be there, I decided I would stay a little longer and just enjoy being there.

Something had definitely shifted . . . because for the next half hour, every dog who strolled down the beach with their guardians came over to say hello to me. It was the strangest thing because not a single dog had approached me earlier, but now dogs were going out of their way to come over and say hello. It warmed my heart. Then, as if "someone" was determined to put some icing on my cake, a bunch of surfers showed up and made their way into the water right in front of me. I don't know how to surf myself but I have always loved watching other people surf. Seeing people "at one" with the tide, the mixture of confidence and peacefulness that surfers always seem to embody, has always touched me very deeply. I sat there a while longer watching the surfers, smiling to myself as I thought about all the things I am grateful for. In recent weeks, I had been struggling so much with my sadness over Lucky's absence, I hadn't been feeling very grateful . . . but in that moment, I was flooded with feelings of gratitude. And I kept hearing that sweet little dog's words . . . that everything was going to be OK . . . and I knew it would be.

When I was ready to leave, I gathered up my stuff and climbed the stairs. Once I was at the top, I turned around to look at our beach one more time and soak it all in. (And to catch my breath too) :-) It wasn't a sad departure though, as I knew I would be back. I knew it would be alright for me to go there without Lucky, that she would want me to keep going to the place that soothes my soul and helps me find center again. It will always be "our" beach but I now know that I can go there without her and still get what I need.

Animals Can Be Mirrors

Over the years, I have seen example after example of where our animals can be a "mirror" for us. Sometimes, when we understand what they need, we discover it is the same thing we need, or when we identify something they need to work on, we find that it is something we need to work on ourselves. I don't think it's any accident that this occurs . . . as I believe it is part of their purpose here on earth, to help us learn about ourselves and help us grow.

I am often tickled when I get to witness these occurrences of "mirroring" - to see the eyes of a guardian light up when they realized how much they have in common with their animal or when they are deeply touched by what their animal is trying to teach them.

Just last week, I had the opportunity to work with three wonderful women and their four horses. There were a mixture of physical and behavioral issues that had these women stumped and they were looking for insights into what was going on.

When one of the gals asked me why her horse occasionally would stop and refuse to move anymore when they were out for a trail ride, I began explaining what I was picking up from her horse. I sensed that her horse needed to know the "big picture" before they went out for a ride. She wanted to know where they were going to go, how long they would be gone and when she was going to get to eat again. :-)

As I was explaining in more detail about the horses' desire to have her expectations managed, her guardian shook her head and started to laugh. She said, "Oh my gosh, she's just like me!" It hadn't occurred to her that her horse needed the same thing she did but now that she knew, she was more than happy to start offering up more of an explanation before they left the barn. She knew how much it helped her, so it was easy for her to see how it would help her horse.

One of the other horses was being pushed around by some of the other horses when they were out in the pasture. I sensed some confusion in him, given that he was always complimented by all the 2-legged folks for being such a sweet, gentle horse and he didn't know how to still be sweet and gentle while standing up for himself with the other horses. I talked to him about how it was OK for him to be confident, that he would still be the same sweet horse he's always been, even if he stands up for himself a bit more. I told him it was safe to be both sweet and confident.

At the time I was talking to him, I sensed it was potentially an issue for his guardian as well, but I didn't say anything at the time. I had just met her and wasn't sure how comfortable she would be with me pointing out what my intuition was telling me about her. :-) Much to my delight, a while later when we were working with one of the other horses, the guardian brought it up herself, mentioning that she saw the connection when we were talking to her horse. She said she often was afraid to speak up for herself for fear that people wouldn't like her anymore. I suggested that maybe it had come up that day so that they could both work on it and help each other make progress on this area. I could tell that it really struck a chord with her.

The week before, one of my dog clients was having difficulty recovering from an injury. I told his guardian that I sensed he wasn't healing because he wasn't resting enough. He seemed to always feel like he had to be "on" - always doing something, and since he never stopped moving, his muscles weren't getting a chance to heal.

As I was explaining all of this, she looked down at the ground, then slowly lifted her eyes to meet mine and quietly said, "He isn't the only one who has this problem." She confessed that she had trouble being still herself, that she never seemed to stop moving either. I suggested that maybe it was something they could work on together, maybe they could take some time out each day where they both rested and were just still. I sensed that it was something she would be more apt to do since it was also going to help her dog.

I think our animals are offering us insights about ourselves all the time and there is so much we can learn if we look at ourselves as closely and lovingly as we look at our animals. All of my clients genuinely want to help their animals and go to great lengths to ensure they are happy and living a balanced life. I think their animals genuinely want to help their guardians too and will go to great lengths to ensure they too are happy and living a balanced life.

Sometimes our animals will help give us the courage to do something for ourselves, when we see how doing that same thing helps them. They really can give us great insight into ourselves. So, what do you think your animal is trying to tell you about yourself? You might be amazed at what you see if you take a look.

Helping animals through the holidays

The holiday season is a crazy time of year, not just for us but for our animals as well. For animals who live in our homes, it can be very confusing. WE know what's going on, but they don't always understand and it can make the holidays even more stressful for them. This is especially true for animals that are new to our home, but it still applies to animals who have been with us a while and have been through a few holidays seasons.

If you think about it from their perspective, this is what they see:

- People coming and going, regular schedules and routines being different

- Packages being brought into the house, that they aren't supposed to get into

- Trees being dragged into the house, that get a lot of our attention, especially during the decorating process

- Lots of smells coming from the kitchen as we cook but don't necessarily share with them

- People coming over, sometimes spending the night, often displacing them from their usual hang out spots

They often get yelled at or spoken to in a firm voice. We say things like:

- Get out of those packages, those aren't for you

- Get out of the tree, you are going to break the ornaments

- Stop drinking the water from the tree stand - you have a water bowl

- Don't you dare pee on that tree

- Go in the other room, Aunt Gertrude is allergic to dogs/cats

- You can't lay in the kitchen when I am cooking

It's all very confusing to them and they often don't end up enjoying the holiday season very much. I think the holidays could be much more enjoyable for everyone if we just talked to our animals and explained what was going on. If we can manage their expectations, they can be a part of the celebrations, instead of adding another element of stress to it.

Many people talk about how their animals behave strangely during the holidays and most of the time, I believe it is because they don't understand what is going on. Their regular routine is changed up and they often feel ill at ease because of it.

Imagine if your spouse didn't tell you they were bringing 10 people over for dinner. Wouldn't you be a little thrown off? What if 7 people showed up and told you they were staying for a couple of days? Would that potentially put your nose out of joint? Especially if those people set up camp in your bedroom and didn't tell you they were going to?

If you put yourself in your animals shoes for a moment, you can better understand how it feels from their perspective. Here are some tips:

If you are going to have a house full of people, let your animals know. Tell them . . . this many people are coming and this is how long they are staying.

If you want your animal to do anything different, please let them know. If your animal is going to have to sleep somewhere where they aren't used to sleeping, tell them that and explain why. Let them know how long this new arrangement will last.

If your animal is used to having quiet time to rest in the house and you know that isn't going to be easy when you have a house full of people, tell them where they can go to be "alone" if that's what they need. Give them a specific room in the house they can go to if they need to "get away from it all."

Tell them you are bringing a christmas tree into the house and explain to them that it is for decoration. Let them know you are making sure it has water so they don't feel the need to water it themselves. :-) Explain to them that the things hanging on the tree are not for them to play with or eat. Then make sure they know where the things are that they CAN play with and eat.

Include them in the celebration in whatever way you can. Whether that is feeding them at the same time the rest of you all are sitting down to eat so they feel they are having a special meal too, or giving them something to unwrap when the rest of you are unwrapping your gifts, let them know they are part of what is going on too.

I believe the holidays can be happier for all of us - 2-legged and 4-legged alike, if we can set everyone's expectations for how things are going to be different for a few days or weeks. Your animals will thank you - in their own special way!

The Beauty of Animal Behavior

Sometimes I wish I could video tape my sessions with animals so that I could play the tapes for people who don't believe animals are as capable of thinking and feeling as they are.

I had a session last weekend with a woman and her three dogs and if I had a tape for people to watch of our time together, I think it would dispel many of the beliefs people have about animals. You wouldn't be able to believe animals don't understand everything we say. You wouldn't be able to believe that animals don't have feelings or that they can process information. You wouldn't be able to believe that it isn't important to animals that they feel respected.

The guardian of these three dogs contacted me because the dogs were exhibiting new, strange and sometimes destructive behavior. She told me that Mickey, the german shepherd and Emma, the standard poodle had been with her for many years. Tony, the new little guy who is a poodle/bishon, white fluffy ball of energy, had recently joined their family. She realized that many of the issues she was dealing with began once Tony came to live with them.

When I first arrived, they all greeted me, but then Mickey went to lay in his crate, clearly wanting to be on his own. As I visited with Emma, Tony and their guardian, I began learning more about the new behaviors that had recently cropped up and was trying to get a sense of what was going on with everyone. When we walked into the room where Mickey's crate was, he let out a small, deep growl to let me know he needed his space. I understood and respected that, although, I'll confess, I was a little bummed to discover that my deep connection with Lucky didn't give me an immediate "in" with all german shepherds. :-)

We called Mickey over a few times to talk about what was going on, and while he did come over each time, he didn't show much interest in interacting with me and would go back to his crate within a few minutes. I could tell that he wasn't sure what to think of me and was definitely on guard, silently watching me out of the corner of his eye. He wasn't ready to trust me yet.

At one point, the dogs noticed someone walking in front of their house. Mickey jumped out of his crate and ran to the front window to bark and let them know the house was protected, and Tony ran to the front window too, and began barking. After a minute or so, Mickey seemed irritated with Tony and went back to his crate, as Tony continued to bark and bark. I could feel Mickey's frustration and I kept sensing he was feeling kind of defeated, although I didn't understand that part just yet. I just knew Tony was bothering him.

I started to explain to their guardian that I was sensing some "role confusion" . . . Mickey always felt it was his job to protect the house, to protect her, but now that Tony was here, and trying to play such an active role in protecting the house, Mickey was feeling confused and a little frustrated. I suspected it was why Mickey had been engaging in one of the new odd behaviors (pulling food off the island in the kitchen for all the dogs to enjoy). I suggested that maybe the role of protecting the house should remain Mickey's role and that we could find another "job" for Tony to do. As soon as I made that statement, Mickey came out of his crate, walked right up to me and licked my cheek. I could feel his gratitude for being able to articulate what he was feeling and I also sensed he was a little more convinced that maybe it wasn't a bad thing that I was there.

A little while later, the guardian wanted to show me the backyard. I can't remember what the impetus was for us to go back there, but as we got to the backyard, she pointed out that the dogs used to have access to the side yard and the whole backyard, and she mentioned that now they only had access to the side yard. All three dogs joined us in the backyard as we continued to talk and I asked her why the dogs no longer had access to the backyard. She explained that in the first week Tony was there, he fell into the pool and she was so worried it would happen again, that she wasn't letting any of them go out there.

As I was explaining how Mickey and Emma felt about that, how it made them less excited that Tony joined their family (since his presence had actually taken away some of the things they enjoyed most), Mickey came over to me again, licked my face and then rolled over on his back at my feet, letting me know a belly-rub would be appreciated and accepted. To see the transformation in him, from growling at me, to licking my face, to rolling over on his back, it was undeniable that the transformation in his attitude towards me was directly related to how I was speaking on his behalf. Animals appreciate being "heard" just as much as humans do.

Their guardian and I talked about how it would be better for Tony to learn how to walk around the pool (and not fall in) than to keep all the dogs out of the backyard. I could sense this was part of the reason Mickey and Emma hadn't been too excited about Tony's arrival. As we were discussing this, Emma came over and offered me her paw, as if saying, "Why thank you very much, what a pleasure it has been to have you here today." :-) She was so darling about it and I could feel a lightness in both she and Mickey that hadn't been there when I first arrived.

One of the other issues their guardian had been dealing with, was that they all were acting needy and competing for her attention, which was something they hadn't done before. When she would sit down in a chair, if one of the dogs came over to get pet, the other two would rush over and they would all be trying to push each other out of the way to get her attention. If she picked Tony up and put him in her lap, Emma and Mickey would try climbing up there too, which wasn't a good thing because it could result in her getting physically injured. It was definitely a competition for her attention and one that shouldn't continue.

I suggested that she try giving them attention one at a time, so they each got some of her undivided attention but they would also know they couldn't ambush her anymore. We decided to have me give it a try and see how it worked. At first, things were going great. I sat down on the floor to pet Mickey and when Emma and Tony came over to try and horn in on the attention, I told them it was Mickey's turn for attention and they would get their turn soon. Much to my delight, they both accepted that and sat down, quietly and patiently watching us.

Then when it was Emma's turn for attention, Tony tried to push his way in and I explained that it wasn't his turn yet. Mickey lifted his head off the floor, and I could tell he was contemplating a move over in me and Emma's direction too but I said "Mickey, you just had your turn, it's Emma's turn now" and he put his head back down on the floor and closed his eyes. Their guardian and I were both so pleased with how this was going, excited to see that they were understanding and respecting the boundary we were trying to set. I continued to pet Emma for a while, while she gleefully soaked up the attention.

Then I was Tony's turn, so I called him over to me and reminded everyone that it was now Tony's turn for some attention, at which time Ella and Mickey immediately ambushed me and no one was listening anymore. It was total chaos in a matter of seconds. Their guardian and I couldn't help but laugh . . . clearly this was going to take a little more practice to put into place. It was evident that while Mickey and Emma respected each other, that respect did not include Tony just yet and it was going to take some time to get them to show him the same courtesy that they showed one another.

The thing that continues to amaze me is how much we can learn from an animal's behavior. It is their primary way of communicating with us and they tell us so much with their actions. There are so many insights we can glean, if we just observe them. When I am communicating with animals, I think I pick up as much information from their behavior and responses as I do from what I hear and feel from them empathically. The swish of a tail, the eye contact, or lack of eye contact, etc . . . each little nuance in their behavior can tell us so much. It's just a matter of paying close attention to how they respond as we speak and as we act.

The other night, I went to a client's house to give Reiki to one of her cats. The cat hadn't been herself lately and her guardian was concerned about her. When I arrived, she was laying on the back of the couch, so I sat down next to her and after telling her what I was going to do, I put my hands on her. Her tail started to swish in a way that told her guardian she wasn't happy, yet she didn't get up and move. I wanted to be respectful of what she was trying to tell me and at the same time, I sensed she needed some healing energy. I thought maybe having my hands on her was too intense, so I held my hands a few inches away from her body and began giving her Reiki that way. Once again, her tail started to swish, and yet again, she didn't get up and move away.

I suggested to her guardian that maybe she was very sensitive to the energy and needed to receive it from a distance. Some animals are so sensitive to healing energy that hands-on Reiki is too much for them. I moved a short distance from her and began sending Reiki to her that way. Immediately her tail stopped swishing, and my hands really began to heat up. Clearly, that was what she needed me to do and she drifted off into a peaceful sleep for the rest of the hour. I was thrilled to get an email from her guardian the next day, reporting that her cat was back to her old self again. Her guardian and I now know that if she needs Reiki again in the future, I need to do it from a distance because that's the way she best receives it.

The closer attention we pay to our animals behavior, the more we can understand what they are trying to tell us. While their communication can often be very subtle, it is still filled with great meaning and insights for us.

And on an unrelated topic, I had an interesting experience this week that is tied to something I wrote about just a few weeks ago. It all started when I pulled out a subdudes CD that I hadn't listened to in quite a while. I was enjoying the CD, until a particular song came on and I immediately started to cry. I hadn't heard that song, called Sugar Pie, in years and I thought it was odd that I hadn't, since I listen to their music so often. The more I thought about it, the more I came to realize that I had purposely NOT listened to that song. When I played that particular CD, I would fast forward past Sugar Pie each time it came on. I was curious about this, and did some mental exploration.

I remembered that Sugar Pie was one of my most favorite songs when the CD came out in the late 90's, and I remembered that I had called Lucky "Sugar Pie" for years, probably because of my love of that song. As I listened to the lyrics, it all finally clicked . . . I had stopped listening to the song in 2001 or 2002, because I believed at that time, based on what the animal communicator had told me, that Lucky was only going to live to be nine and that's when Lucky was approaching her ninth birthday. Based on my belief that she was going to leave me at nine years of age, I stopped listening to the song because it made me cry too much, and it was also when when I stopped calling Lucky "Sugar Pie."

I sat down and played the song again, this time focusing on the lyrics and it made sense why the song upset me so much back then . . . I was so afraid of losing Lucky, so afraid of her passing and afraid of how my grief might consume me, that I couldn't bare to listen to the song because the lyrics were about someone passing away. It was something I didn't want to think about and wasn't ready to accept at the time, so that song ended up on my "Do Not Play" list.

Here are some partial Sugar Pie lyrics:

Chorus:

Sugar Pie, Sugar Pie, sit by me

Sugar Pie, Sugar Pie, sit by me

I’ve got the stories, I’ve got the memories


Some that cry, oh and some that laugh


I’ve got them saved up like your little pennies


Oh little baby in your piggy bank

Now time has passed and you are so far away

Can't get used to not seeing you each day

But there's one place in the back of my mind

Where I can go and see you anytime

And for you to me, forever you will be my . . .

Sugar Pie, Sugar Pie, sit by me

Sugar Pie, Sugar Pie, sit by me

I'm happy to say, the song now brings me comfort. I have been listening to it every day and each time, I smile as I am reminded there there is a place I can go, in the back of my mind, and see her anytime. I know that forever she will be . . . my Sugar Pie.

Acts of Kindness

If you read my blog regularly, you know how much I appreciate it when we are kind to one another and kind to animals. As a witness to so much of this kindness this past week, I wanted to share a few of these stories in the hopes that you will be as touched as I have been.

My first story is: I went to one of my client's houses this week to give Reiki to her cat, Misha. Misha is older and has been dealing with some health issues, so she gets periodic Reiki treatments to help her stay strong. When I arrived at their house, Misha was laying on the couch where she usually is for her Reiki treatments, and snuggled next to her on the couch was another of my client's cats, Sweet Pea.

I said hello to them both and then prepared to start working on Misha, when all of the sudden Misha got up and walked to the other side of the couch and sat down. I moved over to her new position and started to put my hands on her when she got up and moved back to where she had been sitting before. I was talking to their guardian while this was going on and wasn't paying close enough attention to what Misha was telling me. As I moved back over to where she was sitting, I tuned in and heard what she was telling me . . . she felt that Sweet Pea needed the treatment more than she did.

I told their guardian what I was picking up and asked if it was OK with her if I started with Sweet Pea. She told me she had wanted to talk to me about Sweet Pea anyway, as she hadn't seemed herself the last day or so, and she was happy to have me see what was going on with her. While I was giving Reiki to Sweet Pea, Misha just sat there, contently watching us, pleased that I had listened to her and happy that her "sister" was getting the help she needed.

I had the thought when I first got there . . . that there was a reason Sweet Pea was laying in the "Reiki spot" when I arrived, as it is something she had never done before when I came to work with Misha, but since my appointment was with Misha, I didn't pay enough attention to what I was sensing. Fortunately, Misha was determined to get me to "hear" what I needed to hear.

After about forty minutes of soaking up the energy, Sweet Pea got up from the couch and went into the other room. Immediately, Misha got up and laid down on the couch in front of me. She was telling me that it was OK for me to give her Reiki now.

I was so touched by her kindness, the way she was looking out for her "sister" and making sure she got the help she needed. It was so selfless, so generous, so protective. I was in awe of her, even though I know I shouldn't have been surprised. Animals are so loving and so loyal. It's not something they have to learn, it's just who they are.

Another story is: A few weeks ago, I came home to find a message on my machine that warmed my heart to the core. It was a message from an older gentleman I had met more than a year ago telling me he wanted to give me a book he had read as a thank you for teaching him that he could talk to animals. He said there was a part in this book called “Wesley the Owl,” that made him think of me and what I had taught him. He really wanted me to have the book and I was touched on so many levels.

This man wasn’t a client or someone I had extensive interactions with. We just had one conversation but that conversation had obviously impacted him greatly. It was so important to him that he make contact with me that he tracked me down through the vet office I used to work at and was able to get my contact information through them.

As I thought back, I could recall our conversation vividly. He was such a kind man. You could just feel the gentleness of his soul when you were standing next to him. I remember he had told me that there was a feral cat that had been living in his yard for some time. He had been putting out food and fresh water for her every day for ages and while she was obviously content to live there outside his house, she still wouldn’t let anyone come near her. He told me he had noticed in recent weeks that she was no longer eating and that she was losing a lot of weight. He was worried about her and he wanted to get her help but he didn’t know how he’d ever get her to the vet, given how afraid she was of humans.

I could see the sadness and the worry in his eyes. I could feel how much it hurt him to feel so helpless to come to her aid. I remember telling him that he could try talking to her, that he could explain why he was worried about her and ask if she would trust him to take her to a place where she could get some help to feel better. I remember he looked at me oddly, which didn’t surprise me because a lot of people look at me that way when I tell them they can talk to animals, but then he said, “Really? I can talk to her and she’ll understand?”

I explained to him that while feral cats are slightly more difficult to communicate with, as they haven’t been exposed to as much vocabulary as an indoor cat, I believed that they can understand if we use more simple words. I also told him I believed animals can feel what is in our hearts, so if he focused on his desire to help her, she would feel that too.

I never saw him again and hadn't thought about it in the last year. After getting the message from him, and sensing that his desire to give me the book was so genuine and sincere, I made a point to meet him at his house the next day to accept the book he was offering me. When I got there, I immediately felt the gentleness of his soul again and I was so glad he had found a way to get in contact with me. After a brief discussion about the book, he told me what happened after we had spoken that day.

He said he went home and talked to her, explaining what he wanted to do and why. Much to his delight, he discovered that she did hear him and understand him. And much to his surprise, she did allow him to pick her up and put her into the cat carrier so he could take her to the vet. He told me he never would have thought it was possible but clearly it was and he was so happy that he was able to bring her to see someone and not feel helpless to help her anymore. He said it was really important that he let me know he had learned something very important from me that day, that I had changed the way he thought about animals.

As we were standing in his front yard, I looked around and then said “Is she still here?” and he said, “No, that’s the sad part of the story, even though she trusted me to bring her to the vet, they weren’t able to make her well. I did everything they suggested but I could never get her to eat again.” He went on to tell me that several weeks later, as her condition grew worse and he knew she was in increased pain, he asked her if she'd like him to bring her back to the vet to help her get out of her body . . . and once again, she allowed him to put her in the carrier and take her to the vet one last time.

As my eyes welled up with tears, I told him how sorry I was. She had obviously meant a great deal to him and it made me so sad to think he lost her after all of that. But he had a different take on it entirely. He seemed genuinely touched that he had learned that animals could understand him when he spoke to them. As I could feel his gratitude, another thought washed through me, and it was this . . . because he took a chance and talked to the cat, even though it didn’t result in a prolonged life, what it did do was give them both an opportunity to trust, which I believe was a gift to both of them.

In her final weeks, she learned it was safe to trust someone and I know it meant a great deal to her, to feel the love and respect that he had for her. For him, this sweet older gentleman, I know it made him feel good to know he was able to help her, even if it was ultimately to help her make her transition. And for me, I was touched beyond words to know that a casual conversation I had with a stranger ended up giving both this cat and this loving man an opportunity to have the experience they had. It was a sweet reminder for me that I shouldn't be shy about sharing what I believe to be true about animals, even with strangers.

And finally, it is with a heavy heart that I share that two more of my clients passed away in the past week and a half. My heart goes out to both of their guardians, as I know what a tremendous loss it is to lose an animal that you love so dearly and have shared your life, and your heart with. Both these cats, Lucy and Montana were loved so deeply, so completely by their guardians, I felt it was only fitting to include them in this blog about kindness . . . because the love and dedication of their guardians was a beautiful thing to witness.

Both these women went through so much, as they dealt with the health issues that both Lucy and Montana were dealing with. The love and respect they showed these two cats, the commitment they both had to doing everything they could to stay in tune with how their "babies" were feeling, to give them the help they needed, always reminding them how loved and cherished they were, was not only touching but inspiring.

Lucy and Montana both loved their "moms" so much. They both fought hard to stay here as long as they could, wanting to savor the time they had with these two very special ladies. The love and gratitude they felt towards their "moms" would make me well up with tears. It was, and will always be for me, one of the most beautiful things I get to witness in the work I do. To see and feel the love that exists between animals and their guardians shows me the depth of what we are capable of and reminds me what a gift animals give us . . . allowing us the opportunity to love and be loved . . . so freely and completely. I want to believe it makes us better human beings to experience that kind of love.

These relationships, between Lucy and her mom and Montana and her mom, were built on a foundation of love and respect, appreciation and gratitude. I always felt so honored to be a part of their journeys. My heart has ached for both their "moms" because I know how great of a loss it was for both of them to lose their beloved cats. My hope is that they both find some comfort in knowing what a tremendous difference they made in the lives of these two animals and that they always remember they now each have a special guardian angel who is watching out for them.

Lost Memories

A week ago, when I was digging through my office files looking for the copy of the letter I sent to my mom when I was a little girl, I came across something else that stopped me in my tracks. It was a file folder with notes from some sessions I had with an animal communicator back in 2002 and 2003, when apparently, some scary things were going on with Lucky and I was looking for help.

It was the strangest experience . . . sitting there looking at the notes I took, looking at the dates written on the top of the papers, looking at the notes again, then looking at the dates again, trying to get the pieces of my memory to click into place. At first, I couldn't square up what I was reading with what I remembered. The strange thing is, I have always had a really good memory. I even have a couple of old boyfriends that would say my memory works a little too well :-) so it was hard for me to believe there were whole chunks of my life with Lucky that had slipped my mind but apparently, that is what had happened.

I have always remembered that the first three years Lucky and I had together were challenging . . . the way she threw up and dropped to the ground when she saw or heard another dog, her intense fear of various sounds, etc. as well as the early health challenges we were faced with. In my mind though, once we got through those first three difficult years, it was pretty much smooth sailing for us . . . but the notes I was reading were telling me that wasn't the case. The reality was, Lucky and I had a really rough patch from 2001-2003.

I spent several days wracking my brain, re-reading the notes I took, trying to put timelines together, and slowly, the pieces all started to come together. It was so odd to me that I didn't remember and I wondered if I had blocked it out on purpose or if I just forgot it because it wasn't important any longer. It was just so weird to me, to find that there was a whole chunk of my life with Lucky I had forgotten about, when I was so sure I remembered everything. Slowly, little snippets began popping into my head, and I would remember this event or that event and eventually, the picture started to become more complete.

This bad spell occurred from when Lucky was seven to almost nine years old. Prior to that, things had been going pretty well for us. We were in our groove, able to go to parks and be around dogs. We could go just about anywhere and Lucky seemed comfortable and then all of the sudden, Lucky's fears came back with a vengeance. She seemed to be afraid of all sorts of new things and her fears were 100x more intense than they had been when I first adopted her. I remember feeling totally over my head and completely helpless to help her.

One of the memories that finally popped back into my head was the day we were driving on 280. Lucky was in the back seat where she always sat. For seven years, she laid perfectly still in the back seat . . . unless she wanted to put her head out the window, but she even did that in a very lady-like fashion, gently pressing her nose against the glass until I noticed and pushed the button to make her window go down. The car was the one place where I never had to worry about Lucky. She was always so calm and perfectly well behaved. From the first moment I drove away from the shelter with her in the back seat, we had never had a single issue in the car.

On this particular day, something frightened Lucky and she freaked out to the nth degree. With every ounce of strength and determination she had, she was trying to launch herself into the front seat and down under my legs where the gas pedal, brake and clutch were. We were going probably 70 mph at the time and with my right arm, I was trying to push her back into the back seat, while still trying to keep an eye on the road in front of me and steer. I knew I needed to get off the freeway and stop the car, but it was all happening so fast, I could barely think. I remember being in a state of panic myself, as she struggled against me, trying to get herself into the foot well below my knees, knocking the car out of gear at one point, while she was slobbering and drooling all over the place, her eyes wild with fear. It was one of the scariest experiences I had ever had. Fortunately, we safely made it off the freeway and no harm had come to us or anyone else but I remember being dumbfounded by what had occurred. I couldn't understand why this was happening now.

I think that was the beginning of this scary phase we went through. Suddenly, sights and sounds that never frightened Lucky before were causing her to become unglued. Her behavior was erratic, inconsistent and unsettling. It was as if everything I knew, everything I had come to expect was no longer the case. She was reacting to things with such intensity, I didn't know what was going to happen from one minute to the next and it was unraveling me as well.

I used to love watching basketball games on TV but during this time every time I watched a game, Lucky would go from resting comfortably by my feet, to wild-eyed darting around the house, followed by wedging herself into the far back end of my bedroom closet, panting and drooling all over the place, hiding for hours at a time. It took about three times for me to realize it was the sound of the referees whistle that was causing that reaction. Shortly after that, I realized there were commercials on TV that had whistles blowing in them and her reaction would be the same. While I came up with a couple of solutions (watching basketball games with the mute button on, and taping any TV program I wanted to watch, so I could fast forward through the commercials), it wasn't addressing the root cause. Why was she suddenly so afraid of sounds that didn't use to bother her? It felt like someone had pulled the rug out from under us.

Every day there seemed to be new sights and sounds that caused her to unravel. When we were at the park, suddenly the sight of a baseball bat was now causing her to freak out. She would start running out of control, trying to get out of the park as quickly as possible, often running into the street and into the pathway of oncoming cars in an attempt to get away from what frightened her. It felt like things were spinning out of control and I didn't know what to do to help her. I was constantly on edge, wondering when she was going to become unglued next. I was afraid to take her in the car, afraid to take her to the park, afraid to watch TV. All of the things that used to be enjoyable activities for us were suddenly potential mine fields.

It was a horrible time for us. Lucky was scared out of her mind for one reason or another most days and nothing I did seemed to help her. My instinct was to try to comfort her but she was inconsolable in those moments. She didn't want to be touched, she wanted to be left alone which left me feeling even more inept to take care of her. Reliving those old memories this past week, I can kind of see why I blocked them out.

It was during this time that I began seeking help from an animal communicator. Re-reading my notes from those sessions made my heart ache, as I reconnected with those old memories and the things she told me about Lucky. She told me that Lucky had wanted to die when she was in that dumpster (where she had been discarded after months of being used as pitbull bait for a dog ring) . . . that she was so close to dying and so happy that her life was finally coming to an end . . . she was looking for the sweet relief of death . . . and then she was rescued . . . and part of her was disappointed that she had lived. She told me that when Lucky was being attacked, a tiny part of her soul hid out in her body, trying to stay safe and when she was rescued, that part of her soul had never come back out, that it was disconnected from the rest of her. She told me Lucky had experienced a death trauma and it was hard for her to find a peaceful place. She said Lucky didn't feel comfortable being in her body because when she was in her body she would have flashbacks to her early experiences. She told me that on a scale of 1-10, Lucky's fears were at an 11.

She also told me that Lucky was here for a purpose, to be my guide, my teacher and my friend but that she couldn't guide me if she wasn't in her body. If Lucky was going to be able to live out her life's purpose with me, she was going to need to find a way to feel safe in her body.

She also told me that Lucky would live to be nine years old. Lucky was seven years old when this first started happening and I remember thinking that there was no way in hell I was going to let her experience this kind of fear in the last two years of her life. I had no idea how I was going to help her overcome her fears, but I was determined to find a way. I remember my fear being as intense as my determination and I remember thinking I just had to find a way to help Lucky through this.

As I poured over my notes from the sessions with the animal communicator, I was propelled backwards in time . . . slowly remembering that time in our life. I could feel my throat tightening up as I read all the thing she told me about Lucky's early experiences . . . how loud booming sounds reminded her of the sound the men would make to "start the fight" . . . so whenever she heard a loud boom, she automatically assumed she was about to be attacked. She also told me that the men had beaten her with bats to keep her submissive, which explained her reaction to seeing bats.

The thing that didn't make sense to me, and probably still doesn't make sense today, is why all this trauma came up when she was seven. To this day, I have no idea what triggered it, why it had been relatively dormant for so many years and then came on like a freight train so many years later. I kept looking through the notes, looking for answers or insights.

One of my notes said, "It's coming to a head now and it's time to be done with it" . . . at the time, I thought it only referred to Lucky but looking back on it now, I realized some of my own things were coming to a head as well.

I also wrote: "Let her know that no matter what happens, I'm there for her. Let her know I'll be strong and hold the space for her, so she can fall apart." There was that term again "Hold the space" - I never knew where that term came from, but in the last year, it's something that has been on my mind a lot . . . wanting people to "hold the space" for me . . . it felt strangely comforting to see the term written in my notes from all those years ago and to see how important it was to Lucky's healing that I "hold the space" for her.

Another notation said: "She wants you to GET her experience. She barely made it here by a thread, the damage was so severe and she needs you to really understand how she feels when something scares her." Until that time, I think I had always focused on trying to understand WHY something scared her, instead of just accepting the fact that it did. I had to work at relaxing my analytical side and just being present and focusing on WHAT she felt, which wasn't always easy, but I did the best I could. Over time, I realized it was what I needed from others as well.

She brought up the volunteering I was doing and said she didn't sense I got any joy out of my work with the animal rescue organization. I remember telling her I got involved because I wanted to help animals . . . and I shook my head in disbelief when I looked at my notes and it said, "Your work with animals should be of a healing nature, not as a board member." At the time, I thought she was referring to Lucky specifically when she mentioned healing. I didn't realize she was guiding me to my new career path.

There was another section in the notes that I can see now was an impetus for change for me. It said "You and Lucky have both abandoned yourselves. You both need to be #1 but she won't be back until you get back on track. Your energy is all over the place." She also said that my intuition was trying to speak to me but that I wasn't listening.

It was something I knew about myself but had never fully acknowledged. My energy was all over the place . . . I never stopped moving, never stopped "doing" . . . and it was becoming clear to me that it had been a coping mechanism. I over worked, I over volunteered, on some level I was afraid to be still. I think I was afraid of what I would see if I looked at my own life. I knew I had some of my own "old stuff" to deal with but I hadn't wanted to face it. I also knew I was NOT going to be the reason Lucky didn't progress past that point. If I needed to "get back on track" so that she could get back on track, that was what I was going to have to do.

I can see now what I turning point this was for both Lucky and myself. For the first time in my life, I took a good look at myself. I took everything apart, I questioned everything, I started making changes. I began learning how to be still. I knew I needed to figure out how to make myself emotionally healthier, so that Lucky could be emotionally healthier. It was up to me and I guess there's no question now about how the relationship I had with Lucky became so intense and why I felt such a tremendous responsibility to her.

As I tried to remember what happened in the subsequent years, I could see how the pieces fell into place. I started with a class in T-touch, so I could better help Lucky. I quit volunteering for the animal rescue group, then I quit being on the Board of my HOA. As I took things off my plate, I was able to make better choices about what I wanted to put back on my plate. I got involved in Reiki, first as a recipient and when I realized how much it was helping me, I took classes and became certified so that I could use it with Lucky. I started working with a healer, so I could clear out my own stuff. I realized how burned out I was on the corporate world and started looking for another direction to go in career wise. I turned everything upside down. I worried that Lucky and I would never be happy if I didn't figure this out, and I didn't want to let either of us down.

Looking back on it now, I can see how each change that I made positively impacted both of us. As I became stronger and more confident, so did she. As I became more comfortable with who I was, more comfortable in my own skin, so did she. When I became more peaceful, so did she. Each positive change I experienced, Lucky experienced as well. We were finding ourselves, finding a level of peace and contentment I hadn't thought was possible. I was tapping into my old forgotten abilities, reconnecting with who I was supposed to be and for the first time in my life, I was listening to myself instead of everyone else. Lucky and I were on a new path now and there was no going back.

There was however, one lingering fear. The animal communicator told me Lucky would live to be nine and as we got closer and closer to her ninth birthday, my anxiety level increased. I had been on a mission the last couple of years to make all these changes, so that Lucky would have a better life and now that things were getting so much better, I was paralyzed by the thought that she would leave me and we wouldn't be able to enjoy this new life we were creating together.

I had one final session with the animal communicator. When she told me Lucky would live a long life, I questioned her about that, reminding her that she told me Lucky would live to be nine. She told me that Lucky was going to stay longer, that her soul had been healed and she would now be able to do everything she had come here to do. She said Lucky was committed to her purpose here and she no longer wanted to leave. She was going to be my guide, my teacher and my friend for many more years because of the healing we had done.

It was such a strange experience to re-live all of that this week. I know there has to be a reason for it. It seemed like it was no accident that I came across those notes. I am still not sure why I blocked all those memories out but regardless of why I forgot, it seems that someone wanted me to remember.

The one thing I had noticed in the weeks since Lucky passed, that I found rather puzzling, was my reaction to pictures of Lucky. While pictures of her at every age make me smile, it was pictures of her in the last five years that have touched me most deeply. Sometimes I would look at pictures of us in our first seven year together and almost not recognize us, which I found very curious. I also found that I was most interested in watching videos of her from the last five years. I kept noticing it and wondering why I was feeling most nostalgic for the ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen and fourteen year old Lucky.

Maybe it was because I liked who we had become in our final years together. Those were the years Lucky and I were finally being who we were meant to be . . . strong, confident, and fulfilling our purpose. Those years were the sweetest in many ways because our relationship had shifted to more of a partnership. I consulted her on things, asked for her opinion, we made decisions together. We made choices out of love instead of fear. We honored ourselves and our needs. I leaned on her and she leaned on me, and we had an incredible amount of fun together.

I suspect there is still some reason I haven't seen yet for why I found those notes and reconnected with that part of our history together. For now, I am content to have been able to look back and be reminded of all I learned back then. I learned how to be still and to really look at myself. I learned that sometimes the best way to help someone else is to take care of yourself. I learned how important it is to hold the space for people and animals, and acknowledge their feelings. I learned how much more peaceful I feel when I listen to myself instead of everyone else. I learned that it can never be a bad thing to want more out of life. And as I have said many times before . . . I am determined not to lose the lesson(s).

For as difficult and painful as those years were for Lucky and I, I guess the other thing I was reminded of while re-living it all this week is that not only did we get through it . . . but we came out the other side more in line with who we were meant to be. I still struggle a bit with the idea that we had to go through so much pain to find our way because I don't believe learning and growing and healing needs to be so painful . . . but for whatever reason, it seems that was the road Lucky and I chose, and while it makes me a little sad, I am trying to focus on the positive . . . that I am extremely grateful we found the courage to do the healing we did . . . because if we hadn't, Lucky might not have stayed on to be my guide, my teacher and my friend for five more wonderful years.

Feeling Lucky

Last Friday, I took care of one of my best friend's daughters after she got out of school. I was looking forward to spending time with her, because I adore her and was also a little worried about how she'd do, given that it was going to be the first time she had been to my house since Lucky had passed away. She and Lucky always had a very special relationship. I could feel the love they had for one another whenever they were together, it was a deep, soulful kind of connection. I have written about this girl before . . . she was the one who came over several times last winter to read some of her favorite books to Lucky.

While she is only 13 years old, I forget that sometimes because we talk about topics like energy and healing and animal communication, which are conversations I don't have with most 13 year olds. She is very sensitive to energy and like me, she can often feel what people or animals are feeling. Back in the beginning of summer when I was worried that Lucky wouldn't make it to her 14th birthday, it was Katie that told me that she would . . . and I believed her . . . and she was right.

So, we were hanging out at my house on Friday and once we got through the initial "It feels really weird to be here without Lucky" stuff . . . we settled into some of our typical conversations about energy. At one point, she told me that she could feel Lucky's presence. I was excited for her and a little disappointed for myself, as I haven't been able to feel Lucky's presence since she left a month ago. It's one of the things that has made me sad, because I have wanted so badly to feel her around me. I hate to admit it, but I have laid in bed at night and cried, asking Lucky to please let me know she was there, but I have never felt anything. I remember in our last week together, when I spent hours on the floor with Lucky, feeling her breath on my forehead, I would tell her that it would be a good way to show me she was here . . . that if I felt a rush of air against my forehead, I would know it was her . . . and night after night, I would lay there, waiting to feel that, but never did. Still, I was happy to know Katie felt her presence and it was comforting to know that Lucky was there with us, even if I couldn't sense her myself.

Since her dad was out of town, I got to pick Katie up after school again on Monday. I was looking forward to spending some more time with her. As soon as we got to my house, she told me she had some important things to share with me. She had talked to a friend of hers, who also is very sensitive to energy and they compared notes over the weekend of what they experienced when they felt the energy of an animal that had crossed over. (Her friend had lost her beloved cat earlier in the year.) She explained how she and her friend both felt a ball of energy right in front of their heart and now she was even more sure that she had felt Lucky because it matched what her friend had felt when her cat came to visit her. She asked me if I had ever felt that and I told her that I hadn't, but that I promised her I would pay more attention from now on and would let her know if I felt that ball of energy in front of my heart.

On Wednesday, I had an appointment to give Reiki to a client whose dog had passed away in July. I wrote about her dog, Hanna several times this summer. She was such a special dog and I think I was almost as sad as Laurie, her mom, when it was her time to go. A week after Hanna had passed away, Laurie asked me to come up and give her a Reiki treatment to help her with the grief she was experiencing. It was such an incredible experience, I wrote about it in my blog that week.

Here's a quick recap: While I was giving Reiki to Laurie, we both felt Hanna's presence. It was the first, and only time I had ever sensed a spirit. I felt a chill run up my arms and all the hair stood up on my arms as well. I looked around to see if maybe a door was opened and it was a breeze or something else that could have caused that sensation, but I couldn't see any other explanation. In my mind, I asked Hanna if it was her and if it was, I asked her to do it again and sure enough, I got the chill up my arms again. Both Laurie and I were sure Hanna was there and it gave us both a tremendous amount of comfort.

I thought about all of that as I was driving to Laurie's house on Wednesday, but since it had been 4 months since Hanna passed, I didn't think we'd get to feel her presence again. Still, I was looking forward to seeing Laurie, even if I did feel a bit sad about the fact that it was the first time I have been to her house without Lucky in the car.

The funny thing is, a few weeks ago, I wrote about how Lucky was always in the car when I went into client's houses and when I typed that, I remembered that Laurie's house was the one exception. There was a time, back in June, when we were having a heat wave and Laurie was concerned about Lucky being in the car. I would normally never agree to bring Lucky into a client's house but that day I made an exception (in part because Hanna was having potty issues just like Lucky, so Laurie was already "set up" to handle it in case it happened). It was actually kind of fun to have Lucky in there with me while I gave Reiki to Hanna. Lucky was incredibly well behaved and mostly just observed, which alleviated the other concern I had about ever bringing her inside someone's home during an appointment . . . I was worried she would need something from me and it would distract me from focusing on my client. It all worked out perfectly though and I remember being very grateful to Laurie for allowing her to come inside that day.

The next time I went up there to give Hanna a Reiki treatment, Lucky stayed in the car because it was much cooler. I'll never forget how concerned Hanna was that Lucky didn't come in that time. She was worried that it was because Lucky didn't like her, which made Laurie and I both tear up. To see the way way Hanna relaxed when I explained that it wasn't the case at all, that Lucky was very comfortable with her and that I just wanted to be able to focus all my attention on Hanna that day, confirmed for me how much animals really do feel.

So, back to Wednesday, as soon as we started Laurie's Reiki treatment, I felt the chill run up my arms . . . it took my breath away for a minute, as I realized what the sensation meant and I knew Hanna was there again . . . then almost immediately I felt a ball of energy in front of my heart, exactly the way Katie had described it to me. I almost gasped and then quietly whispered to Laurie "They are both here." She opened her eyes and said "I was just sensing that myself."

I closed my eyes again to focus in on the sensations and I got flooded with information . . . thoughts, pictures, feelings . . . they all came flowing in so fast I almost had trouble sorting through them all. What they told me was that Lucky was feeling really frustrated that I wasn't able to feel her presence when she came to visit me and she was feeling discouraged because she knew how sad it was making me. Hanna told her that she'd be able to help and asked Lucky to trust her. Hanna brought Lucky to her mom's house and she assured Lucky that she's be able to get my attention because she had done it once before. I could feel Lucky's excitement and relief that she was finally getting through to me and I could feel how proud Hanna felt that she had orchestrated it all.

Laurie and I had to pause for a minute, while I grabbed some kleenex for us both and we talked quickly about what I was picking up. We were both so in awe of the fact that our girls came and that they were there together. With our hearts swelling with love, we resumed the Reiki treatment although we were both acutely aware of all that we were sensing about our girls for the rest of the hour.

Afterwards, we compared notes and it was amazing to me how we both sensed all the same things. It validated everything I was picking up when Laurie shared what she had been sensing. We talked for a while afterwards, comparing notes and just being in awe of what we had experienced. We both sensed that Lucky was laying on the floor a couple feet away from us, just watching us. She was laying in the exact spot she had been the only other time she had been in Laurie's house. The interesting thing is that I kept sensing that she was "holding the space" for us, which I just wrote about in my blog last weekend, so it made her presence even sweeter . . . my girl was "holding the space" for me. We both sensed that Hanna was moving around more, but that she finally settled on the back patio, a place that she always loved to be, where she could enjoy the sunshine but still see us.

I told Laurie about my conversation with Katie on Monday and she was as blown away as I was when I realized how perfectly orchestrated the whole thing had been. If Katie hadn't told me about the ball of energy she felt in front of her heart, I would have never known to pay attention to that, and if Hanna hadn't made her presence known last July, I wouldn't have known to pay attention to that, and if Laurie hadn't decided she needed a Reiki treatment, I might not have been able to put it all together and finally have the experience of feeling Lucky's presence. Laurie felt very strongly that it was Hanna's way of thanking me for all I did for her when she was still here on earth and I couldn't disagree with that.

The last couple of days, I have felt lighter than I have since Lucky passed away. To know that I finally know how to sense Lucky's presence is a gift for which I am grateful for beyond words. While I was writing to Laurie the other night, I could feel it again . . . the ball of energy in front of my heart and I knew my girl was there with me, enjoying the profound level of glee that Laurie and I were both experiencing. The last two nights, I have slept more soundly and more peacefully than I have since Lucky made her transition. I feel less alone, less empty. I have so much gratitude in my heart . . . for Katie, for Hanna, for Laurie and for my sweet girl who was trying as hard as she could to let me know she was around me.

I'll admit, living my life without Lucky has been a very difficult adjustment. I am doing my best to embrace this new life I have without her, but it hasn't been easy. I frequently get asked when I am going to get another dog and I have found that I bristle whenever I am asked the question. I know when people ask, they are not being unkind or insensitive. I know they care and they don't want me to be sad, they know I love animals and it's natural for them to assume that it would make me feel better if I had another animal companion . . . so I am not mad at them when they ask . . . I have just noticed that I have an edgy response to the question.

I've been thinking about this a lot, trying to understand my reaction and I've decided that it stems from the fact that it wasn't just about having a dog for me. In many ways, I felt like Lucky and I had a divine purpose for coming together and I don't know if I'll ever have that kind of relationship with another dog again. I have loved every dog I have ever had . . . but with Lucky it was different.

Maybe it was the intense "knowing" that I had as a child that I was supposed to have a German Shepherd and the fact that I "won" Lucky in a lottery, and the fact that I felt I knew her when I met her, that shifted the tone of our relationship to something more serious. From the first moment I brought her home, I felt a responsibility to her that exceeded the normal feelings of responsibility that someone might have when they adopt an animal. I always sensed there were aspects of our relationship that were divinely orchestrated and even though I didn't understand exactly what all we were supposed to accomplish together, I always sensed that it was part of some master plan and I didn't want to fail.

I also realized that it was that feeling that kept me from ever wanting to entertain the idea of euthanasia. I always sensed there were things about my relationship with Lucky that were tied to a higher purpose and I felt it wasn't my place to decide when our relationship ended. I sensed that only Lucky and maybe those on a higher plane were "in the know" about our purpose and only they would know when our time together was complete. I always tried to stay in the place of trust when it came to that . . . I didn't feel I had the right to intervene . . . that someone else was in charge of our journey together and I needed to just do my best to be a good guardian and a good student.

I remember telling Lucky in our last week together than I didn't know if I would ever have another dog again . . . that our relationship had been so profound, so amazing that I couldn't imagine having any other kind of relationship with a dog. I remember thinking about my childhood belief that I was supposed to have a German Shepherd so I told her that if she came back to me again, it would need to be as another German Shepherd but that I wasn't sure I would be ready for that for quite some time . . . but a voice in the back of my head reminded me that I can't see the "big picture" and who knows what the Universe has in store for me. Still, I have been pretty set on my belief that I "had my German Shepherd" and that that was probably it for me. I have been feeling content to dedicate myself to helping other people's animals live healthier, happier lives.

So, yesterday, I was out for a run when I remembered a card I had written to my mom when I was a little girl. She found it in 2002 and faxed it over to me because she was so tickled by what I had written to her. We couldn't remember how old I was when I wrote the note, but we're guessing I was 7 or 8 years old at the time. In the note I wrote:

“Dear Mom;

I hope you have a super Birthday! And many more to come! Thanks for not only being a super mother, but an understanding friend. I hope we’ll stay close, (even though when I’m older I’m having German Shepards). Have a GREAT BIRTHDAY!”

Love always, Maureen

As I was running towards my house, the word "Shepherds" came popping into my head . . . I wasn't thinking about the fact that I couldn't spell the word "shepherd" back then :-) . . . I was thinking about the fact that I was hearing it in my head as a plural . . . I had always remembered it as a singular . . . "shepherd" . . . but now I wasn't sure. When I got home, I ran to my office and dug through the drawers in my office until I found the file folder where I had the copy of the letter . . . and sure enough, it said "shepards" . . . plural . . . and I sat down in the chair and smiled to myself . . . as I realized that maybe I am going to have another Shepherd some day . . . and maybe if I'm lucky, it will be Lucky again.

For now, I am at peace because I finally "felt" Lucky and it gives me great comfort to know that I will now be able to sense her when she is around. Thanks to Katie and Hanna and Laurie, I finally have the connection that I was missing. To say I feel "Lucky" is the understatement of the year.

In the back of my head, I am still thinking about the note I wrote to my mom on her birthday all those years ago . . . it was definitely a plural . . . so maybe someday another German Shepherd will come into my life to teach me some more things I didn't realize I needed to learn. In the meantime, I am content to know that I don't know it all . . . and I humbly accept that when the time is right, another German Shepherd may come into my life. I can't stop thinking that maybe if I'm lucky, it will be Lucky again. I trust that the Universe will orchestrate it if it is to be.

Trying to learn the lesson

The past few weeks, I've been thinking a lot about the final lesson Lucky left me with . . . that I needed to be willing to ask for what I needed. I want to make sure I don't lose the lesson, as I think it was very important to her that I understood that before she left me, so I have been mulling this over quite a bit.

I have gone through the last year in my mind, trying to figure out if there were times where I could have or should have asked for help. I have struggled to find many examples of where I missed an opportunity to ask for help. I could think of a few times where I DID ask for help and didn't get it, which probably made me less interested in seeking help. I could also think of more than a few examples of where I got "help" in the way of advice that wasn't actually helpful. It's been bugging me because I really do want to embrace this final lesson that Lucky had for me, I want to be a good student but I have been worried that I was missing her point.

What I have realized is that given the state of overwhelm I was in for most of the last year, I don't think I could have figured out WHAT I needed, let alone ask for help. In some cases I struggled with something for months before I finally found an easier way to do it and in some cases, a friend would figure out what I needed that would make things easier based on what I was telling him or her, but I am not sure if I could have identified a need and asked for help in those situations.

In one example that came to mind, I was telling a friend of mine that I had struck out on holistic cures for Lucky's yeast infection . . . that I had tried all the options I had found in my research and nothing was working. It was she who offered to do some more research and much to my surprise and delight, she found another option . . . which ended up being the one that worked. It didn't occur to me to ask her to do more research for me, as I thought I had exhausted all the possibilities, but clearly she is a better "googler" than me. I am still grateful she offered to do more research for me but I am not sure that I would have thought to ask her to do that. Of course, I will now. :-) If I ever find that I can't find information on the internet, she'll be the first person I will call.

And I thought of another example, from at least six months ago, when I was telling another friend about how I wasn't sleeping because Lucky was struggling to change positions during the night. I told him how I'd hear her trying to move and would need to turn the lamp on that sits on my bedside table, but my hands were so chewed up from using the sling, they'd either be too swollen or sore and I couldn't get a hold on the little knob that turns the light on. I'd struggle and struggle with the light, finally get it on, finally be able to see Lucky and figure out what she needed and afterwards, I would turn the light out, only to be woken up again an hour later, when I would hear her struggling to move and once again, and I'd go through the fiasco of trying to get the lamp turned on.

I was just explaining why I was so tired, but a couple days later he came over with a night light for me to put in my bedroom. The thought hadn't even occured to me. The only thought I had was, "If I wasn't using the sling, my hands wouldn't be this chewed up, but not using the sling isn't an option." It was necessary in order for Lucky to get around, so I figured it was just something I was going to have to cope with. Fortunately for Lucky and I, that night light ended up being the perfect solution to our night time challenges. With the light it gave off, when I heard Lucky making noise at night, I was able to see her easily and help her, all without having to fuss with trying to turn the lamp on anymore. But since the idea never came into my brain, I couldn't have asked someone to get a night light for me and it never occurred to me that maybe I could ask friends if they had any ideas for me. I was just grateful that my friend came up with a solution for me when I didn't realize there was another solution.

And then there was the whole challenge of getting Lucky in and out of the garage. It was another case where I never thought of asking friends if they had any solution ideas for me. I was just so focused on dealing with each of our new challenges as they came up, that I was on "auto pilot" and this was no exception. It's almost humorous now when I look back on it, the things we went through every day to get Lucky in and out of the garage and how long it took me to find a way to make it easier.

There are two steps from my laundry room into the garage and when we began using the sling full time to help Lucky walk, it presented us with a series of challenges. Going out to the garage, I would be holding her back end up with the sling, and she'd stop at least 6 inches away from the door to the garage, so as not to get her toes smooshed by the door when I opened it. I would hold the sling in my right hand and with my left hand, I would attempt to lean forward and reach the length of a german shepherd, plus about six inches to grab the door handle and pull the door opened, all while struggling to keep her back end up with my right arm. I'd then brace the door with my right foot, until we cleared the door and I'd help her down the two steps. This often involved a lot of swearing on my part, as it wasn't the easiest of maneuvers.

Then when we got back home, I'd get her to the steps, and while holding her back end up with the sling, I'd use my left foot to prop the door opened (so I was standing in the garage, but had my left foot up in the laundry room), and while trying to support her chest with my left hand and using my right hand to support the weight of her body with the sling, I'd try to steer her up into the laundry room . . and once she was finally up into the laundry room, I had to pull my right leg up to meet my left leg, that was already in the laundry room. This of course often resulted in more swearing, because it wasn't always the most graceful of maneuvers either and I guess it's no mystery why my back hurt all the time. I can't count the number of times we both fell down or almost fell down during these particular exercises.

We did this for months, every day, sometimes multiple times a day . . . and then one day, I got this bright idea . . . if I could find a way to keep the door OPENED, we wouldn't have to struggle with the whole door issue when we went in and out of the garage." I felt like I was on one of those V8 commercials where the person gets bonked in the forehead. "Why in the heck didn't I think of this sooner??" I wondered where my brain was some days. My solution was to get some rubber bands, twist them together and then use them to attached the door knob of the door to the garage to the door knob of the pantry door that is also in the laundry room. Ahh . . . problem solved. It at least eliminated one of the painful steps to our daily process. I berated myself for not figuring it out sooner . . . but again, I am not sure that it was a case of me not asking for help because I didn't think there was anything anyone could do to help me, unless I asked someone to move in with Lucky and I. Sure it would have been helpful to have someone hold the door opened for us each time we left the house, but I couldn't imagine calling friends 3-4x a day to say, "Lucky and I are about to leave the house, can you come over and hold the door opened for us?" Once again, I didn't see any way someone could help us.

What I did realize though, was that I hesitated to talk to many people about the things we were struggling with. I pondered that a while . . . Why didn't I talk to very many people about the things we were struggling with?

Several answers came to mind:

1) I didn't want to seem like a complainer. I was doing my best to stay positive because I didn't want Lucky to feel like she was a burden to me.

2) Often when I did share some of our struggles, I would get the "Do you think it's time?" response and what I needed was help not pressure to put Lucky down.

3) Often the response I got from friends was "You'll figure it out Mo, you always do." which don't get me wrong, it's nice to know my friends believe in me, but it did make me less apt to share what was going on and finally . . .

4) I had several friends who, when I shared what I was struggling with, would respond by bringing the conversation back to them . . . the "That reminds me of a struggle I am having" kind of response and then I would listen as they shared what was going on with them.

Since reasons 2, 3 and 4 never resulted in getting the support I needed or ideas that helped me, I think I just stopped talking to most people about what Lucky and I were dealing with.

A week or so ago, I went to my own blog and read what I had written after Lucky passed away, because I was missing her so much and just wanted to feel closer to her. There was something I had written that caught my eye . . . it wasn't the first time it caught my eye but this time it made me pause a little longer.

Before I explain that, there's something I should explain first. Something happens when I am writing . . . often times I get into a zone and words just pour out of me and onto the keyboard . . . and occasionally when I go back and read what I wrote, I am almost surprised. I'm not wanting to sound full of myself or anything, but there have been times where I went back and read something I wrote and thought, "Wow, that was good!" :-) and sometimes I think "Where did that come from?" I figure there must be someone else helping me write in those instances . . . maybe an angel sitting on my shoulder while I type or some other kind of divine assistance because I swear, there are so many times where I learn something from what I wrote myself. :-)

So, back to my blog, there was a line that said, "I wondered if that was Lucky's final lesson for me . . . that if I was willing to focus on what I needed and say it out loud, it would shift the energy so that more love and support could come my way, that more people would come forward and be present in the way I needed them to be." It was the line about people coming forward and being present in the way I needed them to be that really struck me. That was my challenge previously, that I would try to ask for help or be opened to help, but found that people couldn't help me or be present in the way I needed them to be. Because of that, as time went on, I interacted with less and less of my friends. It seemed easier to be alone than to have people around yet not feel supported.

That line from my blog just kept buzzing around and around in my head and I tried to focus on what I really needed. It was difficult at first, because I have trouble thinking about my own needs but once I really focused on it, I was able to start identifying a few things. I knew I needed to be around people who were comfortable with emotion, people who would allow me the space to cry if that's what I needed to do, to laugh if that's what I needed to do or to hug me if it looks like that's what I needed. I needed to be around people who were not uncomfortable talking about Lucky, people who wouldn't feel uncomfortable if her name came up in conversation or feel compelled to change the topic. I needed to be around people who could "hold the space" for me.

I was pleased that I had figured out what I needed but I was still stuck on the "say it out loud" part. I couldn't imagine calling all my friends or sending a note out to all of them, spelling out my newly discovered needs. It would just be weird and awkward, plus I know many people wouldn't be capable of delivering what I needed. It doesn't make me like them any less, but it wouldn't be fair to them or me, if I was wanting something from them they couldn't give me. I was feeling more clear about the fact that there are certain things I need right now and I don't want to downplay my needs, or feel apologetic for wanting certain things right now.

It reminded me of an analogy that I have used often over the years . . . that if there is something you need, you have to go to a place where it is provided. Going back to my college days in Spokane . . . I learned that if you really want a tequila shot, it doesn't make sense to go to a tavern and order one because taverns only serve beer and wine, so no matter how many times you try to order a tequila shot, or how nicely you ask, they're just not going to be able to serve you one. My old college roommate would frequently forget this, and the poor manager of the tavern we frequently went to would barely be able to hide his exasperation when she would again and again go up to the bar to order a round of tequila shots. :-)

Since I knew that not everyone I knew would be able to "be present in the way I needed them to be," I was stuck on who I was supposed to say it out loud to. I decided to just say it out loud to Lucky, because I'm operating under the assumption that she is still around, keeping an eye on me. I explained to her that I figured out what I needed and told her what all those things were. I figured it was a good first step and let it go at that.

As I sit here, thinking about the last week, I realized that I got exactly what I needed, so apparently, just telling Lucky was a good starting place. A friend invited me over to her house last Saturday to have dinner and pass out candy to the Trick-or-Treaters with she and a few friends. I had the most lovely evening. We oohed and aahed over all the darling halloween costumes the kids were wearing. We talked about Lucky, I shared stories about her and no one was uncomfortable. We laughed a lot through out the evening, and when I showed my friend the german shepherd angel in my car, we both cried. When I was getting ready to leave, my friend's boyfriend offered to let me take one of their plants home because he felt it was important to have something/someone to take care of, which made everyone tear up. I declined his offer (as I have quite a few plants) but I was deeply touched by his concern and the darling way he broached the subject.

The next day, I was struggling a lot with missing Lucky. When a friend called to invite me to join she and her daughter on an outing, she could tell that I wasn't doing so great. She asked, "Are you having a sad day?" and I said "Yes, I am" as my voice cracked and the tears started to flow. She said "Why don't we get together and I can just listen. You don't have to worry about being up, let me just support you in the space you are in." It almost took my breath away, to have someone be so present for me.

Many more times this week, I had experiences like this, where people just seemed to be present in the way I needed them to be, which in turn allowed me to be present in the way they needed me to be.

I was talking to two good friends of mine about this concept of "holding the space" for someone, which is another way of saying "being present in the way someone needs you to be." We've talked about what a gift it is when someone "holds the space" for you and it's one of the reasons we enjoy each others company, because we all do that for one another. I was telling them that when trying to talk about this concept to others, I frequently get the "But what does that really mean?" question. We were all trying to find words to better explain it, but were having some difficulty at first. It's one of those things where you "know it when you experience it" but it's hard to describe.

Finally we came up with some words to more accurately explain it - it's where you have no agenda, no goal for the conversation, where you just let a person say what they need to say and offer up enough empathy and then enough silence, that the person feels safe to feel what they are feeling. You don't jump into trying to solve the problem, you don't change the subject, you don't take any responsibility for what the person is feeling, you don't bombard them with questions. You just allow them the "space" to feel what they are feeling and express what they feel like sharing, and you let them know you're there in whatever capacity they'd like you to be. Now that I can better articulate what it means to have more people around who can "hold the space" for me, I have said it out loud (to Lucky again). I look forward to seeing what happens. And I hope she is proud of me for trying hard to not miss out on what she was trying to teach me in our final week together.

Back to Halloween for a moment . . . last weekend, one of the memories that kept popping into my head that both touched me and made me sad, was how the children Lucky was friends with loved showing her their halloween costumes. As I have mentioned before, Lucky and I always went to the same park at the same time each day, so that her little friends would always know they could find her if they wanted to see her. In the last couple of years, some of these darling children have arrived at the park in their halloween costumes, days before and days after the actual holiday because they wanted Lucky to see them in their costumes. Last year, a darling little girl arrived in the cutest fairy costume and her mom said, "I'm so glad you are here, she was so excited about Lucky seeing her dressed up, we had to rush home so she could change into her costume after school."

A couple days later, one of Lucky's little friends arrived in his Batman costume. When one of the other parents inquired as to why her son was still wearing his costume so many days after Halloween, his mom explained that her son really wanted Lucky to see him in his costume. It touched me so much, I almost cried.

Lucky had such a special relationship with all those kids and it's one of the things I really miss now that she is gone. I think we both lit up in the presence of the children we met at the park. A friend who we met at the park years ago, invited me to join she and her child when they went to the park the other day. I knew I wasn't ready yet to show up without Lucky and be faced with answering questions about where she is. I know in time, I'll be able to do it and it will be wonderful to see all those darling children again. Right now just isn't the time.

For now, I am going to try to keep focusing on what Lucky was trying to teach me. I am going to try to keep thinking about what I need and when I identify a need, I am going to say it out loud. I think my neighbors will find it's a welcome change from all the swearing they've undoubtedly heard me doing in the previous 10 months. :-)

Well, the swearing hasn't ceased completely . . . back to the door that goes into the garage for a moment . . . the other day, I jumped out of the car and was running into the house, doing what one of my friends calls the "Dance of Hope" (where you hope you make it to the bathroom in time), when the door started to close on me after I had flung it opened and the strap of my purse got caught on the door handle. I didn't notice until after making it a foot or two out of the laundry room, at which time I was launched backwards by my purse strap, which almost resulted in the "Dance of Defeat" and did result in a fair amount of swearing . . . I decided that maybe keeping the door in the opened position with my rubber bands is a routine I shouldn't change for now.