Earth Fire Institute

I was recently introduced to an amazing organization called The Earth Fire Institute (http://earthfireinstitute.org/) by one of my clients. They are a wildlife sanctuary in Idaho and they provide a home for animals who are no longer capable of living in the wild. Everything about this organization resonates with me. They are living out one of my dreams . . . and as a way of living vicariously through their experiences, I have spent hours delving into all the content on their website.

There is a section where you can read stories about all the animals who live there. (Go to the "Meet the Animals" tab). The stories will make you smile, make you cry and touch your heart.

The sanctuary is also a home to many wolves, bears, cougars, buffalo, etc. If you have an interest in learning more about wild animals and how their lives can be positively impacted when they are treated with kindness and respect, you will thoroughly enjoy every page of this website.

I poured over the stories about the wolves, as I have always had a special fondness for wolves, and I was so moved by the love, respect and tender care they are receiving at Earth Fire, it made me want to pack a suitcase and fly up there.

There is a video on the site that touched me very deeply. It shows one of the wolves, Apricot, who has a neurological disorder, allow someone to do energy healing treatments on her. Prior to trying energy healing, the only other option they were given for treatment was to give Apricot dangerous drugs to relieve her pain. To see how receptive this wolf was to energy healing, to see how much she allowed herself to trust the healer and surrender to the process was awe inspiring.

http://earthfireinstitute.org/2010/04/energy-healing-wolf/

I hope that you will take an opportunity to check out their website and learn more about the amazing work these folks are doing up there. It will give you a new perspective how incredibly wise and magical wild animals really are and what kind of relationship is possible when we allow ourselves to embrace the truth about the depth of animals ability to think and feel.

The joy of vacuuming

October 15th was the one year anniversary of Lucky's passing, so last weekend, I decided to cajole myself into doing a couple things I hadn't been able to do in the past year . . . clean out her toy basket and vacuum the stairs.

I wasn't as successful as I hoped I'd be in the first activity. I dumped all her toys on the floor, figuring I would throw out all the ones that were worn out or torn up but I wasn't finding much I was willing to part with. I didn't cry or feel sad and it wasn't that I couldn't part with the toys because of some deep emotional attachment to them. I had this odd calmness come over me as I went through the exercise. I kept getting a feeling there was a good chance Lucky would come back to me some day and I was sure she'd enjoy being reunited with her most favorite toys. If you don't believe in reincarnation, you might think that I am deep in denial, but since I do believe animals come back to spend another lifetime with their previous guardians, it didn't feel out of the realm of possibilities. As I went through her toy basket, I kept getting a strong "knowing" that she would be back.

After going through all of her toys, only about 10-12 of them ended up in the garbage. The remaining toys (over 50 or more) ended up back in the basket. So, one task down (even if I barely got a "C" for my effort) and it was onto the next . . . vacuuming the stairs.

You may be thinking it's rather strange that I haven't been able to vacuum the stairs since Lucky passed away, but it's because it was Lucky's most favorite house cleaning chore and never in my life had I seen a dog so filled with glee at the sight of a hand-held vacuum cleaner. The second I pulled the hand-vac out of the hall closet, Lucky would grab a tennis ball and immediately run to the top of the stairs and wait for the "Stair game" to begin. Even when I hadn't planned on vacuuming the stairs, (i.e. when I had pulled out the hand-vac to clean some cobwebs or something else), I would end up vacuuming the stairs because her joy was so contagious and I couldn't bring myself to tell her, "No, we're not going to vacuum the stairs today." (Especially since she would run to the top of the stairs as soon as I pulled out the hand-vac and she wouldn't budge from that spot until the "game" began).

The game consisted of me starting at the bottom of the stairs and her laying at the top of the stairs. She would spit the tennis ball out of her mouth, watching it bounce down the steps until it got to me. It was then up to me to grab the tennnis ball (while still vacuuming the step) and throw it back up to her. She would catch the ball and then promptly spit the ball out of her mouth again, watching it bounce down the steps until it reached me. The game continued until the gap between us was only one step.

It sounds like a easy and maybe even boring game, but there were all sorts of challenges that made the game even more fun, like if I missed the ball, or lost my balance while trying to grab the ball, or when I threw the ball up to her and it bounced off her teeth and came flying back towards me, or if it was just a bad throw that ricocheted off the wall instead of landing in her mouth. All these "challenges" added joy to the game for Lucky and her eyes would sparkle with delight. There are only thirteen steps to the second floor, but sometimes the "Stair game" would last a half an hour or longer. I'm pretty sure I had the cleanest stairs in the world in all the years Lucky was with me.

Even in the last part of Lucky's life, when her back end was weak and she couldn't go up the stairs anymore, we would still play the "Stair game." I remember one day towards the end of her life, I wanted to vacuum the dog hair off the stairs before company arrived and I was just going to do it quickly, by myself . . . but the look on her face when I pulled out the hand-vac told me that it was no time to start a new tradition. I helped her to the top of the stairs and handed her a tennis ball, then went to the bottom of the stairs to begin vacuuming. The twinkle in her eyes and the sheer joy on her face confirmed for me that the game was still one of her most favorite things, and even though she needed my help at the start and the end of the game, it didn't take away from the experience. She happily dropped the ball, watched it bounce down the steps towards me and the game was on!!

So, last weekend when I set out to finally vacuum the stairs, I was afraid it would be too hard to do it without her, which is why my stairs have gone un-vacuumed all year. Much to my delight, I actually enjoyed it. I had a moment of sadness when I first started, but mostly it just made me smile, as I thought about the hundreds of times Lucky convinced me we needed to "clean house" and how she managed to help me find enjoyment in a task that I used to dread.

I'm happy to say I think I am going to be able to vacuum the stairs now without any trouble, and even though a lot of people may think I am a little crazy, I'll be hanging onto Lucky's toys for a while longer, so if she comes back, she'll be able to play with them again.

New Beginnings

This week, I was contacted by one of my former clients, who I hadn't seen much of since her precious Natalie passed away last December. She and her husband decided it was time for them to get another dog, so a few weeks ago, they adopted a dog from a rescue organization. Their new dog, Shasta, was exhibiting a lot of anxiety and she had already earned the nickname "Velcro" because of the way she "attached herself" to them. She asked me if I could come and do a session with them.

She told me that Shasta looked like a cross between Lucky and Natalie and that it warmed her heart that Shasta looked like a combination of our two girls. Natalie was an aussie, so I was anxious to see what an ausie/shepherd would look like. When I got to their house yesterday, I understood what she was talking about. Shasta is definitely an aussie . . . in body style and fur, her tail . . . . she was all aussie . . . but she was black and tan in coloring, just like a shepherd and she had shepherd ears that stood up, instead of a normal aussie ear that flops down. She grabbed my heart immediately, not just because of how much she looked like Natalie and Lucky, but because she had the most incredibly soulful eyes.

My clients were concerned about her anxiety and having never had a rescue dog before, they were also worried about how to correct the unwanted behaviors she was exhibiting, as the last thing they wanted to do was cause anymore stress for a dog who had been through so much in her first 3-4 years.

Fortunately, Shasta was incredibly receptive to the energy and she immediately laid down and started to soak it up, while I talked with her mom and dad about their concerns and questions. She even fell asleep for a while, which shocked her parents, as they hadn't seen her that relaxed since she came to live with them two weeks ago.

As is very common with rescue dogs, they have a fear of being given up, especially if they have changed homes more than once and they can experience a lot of anxiety. Shasta spent the first few years of her life living with a woman who worked all the time and she spent almost every day alone in the backyard. Eventually, she figured out how to get out of the yard and would wait on the porch for her guardian to come home and while it didn't concern her guardian, it concerned the postal worker who came to the house every day. Lets just say, Shasta didn't make him feel welcome, and her guardian was forced to give her up. She went to the shelter, then to a rescue group, was adopted out, and then returned, then back in a foster home. She was experiencing a lot of fear that she wouldn't get to stay in this new home very long either, which was why she was being "velcro girl." We talked to her about how she was never going to have to change homes again, that this was her forever home. I could feel that a lot of her anxiety was tied to this fear, so I knew it was important to assure her that she wasn't going to have to change homes again.

I realized that Shasta didn't have as advanced of a vocabulary as most dogs her age, probably because she spent so much time alone in her first three years. (Since animals learn our language from being around us, just like babies, they need to be exposed to hearing people talk if they are going to learn the language). I talked to her guardians about keeping the communication simple for a while, until she has a chance to expand her vocabulary. It made sense to them, as they knew she was really smart and had shown she could learn some things quickly, but sometimes, she didn't seem to understand them at all. They realized that when she didn't understand them, they were probably using too many words and talking too fast.

We discussed the delicate balance of correcting behavior in an animal that is already fearful. It is something that is very important to be aware of when you have adopted a rescue animal. If you come on too strong, you can make the animals behavior worse, but if you are too soft, you can end up with a situation that is equally out of control. Between my experience with Lucky, as well as the years I volunteered for the German Shepherd Rescue organization, I learned just how important it is to find that balance.

One of the key ingredients to me is redirection. If an animal is doing something you don't want them to do (i.e. chewing on one of your shoes), it is not helpful to just yell at the dog for chewing the shoe, nor is it helpful to just ignore your now destroyed loafer. You need to show them what they CAN chew on. Sure, tell them "no" as you take the shoe away, but then you need to help them understand what IS acceptable to chew on. Animals learn incredibly fast when you use redirection as a method of training.

Anyway, back to Shasta. She soaked up a ton of energy and her parents said she looked like a different dog by the end of the treatment. She was so calm and relaxed. They all walked me to the gate together and when her dad opened the gate, he asked her to sit. She sat immediately but then a couple seconds later, she got up and started exploring the front yard. Her dad called her back and she immediately responded. He asked her to sit and she did. However, two seconds later, she was up exploring the front yard again.

I smiled at her dad and said, "Do you mind a little feedback?" and he said, "Absolutely, I'm open" so I pointed out that he wasn't telling her how LONG she had to sit, which was why she came to him and sat each time, but only for a second or two. We all had a good laugh and her dad said he'd start working on a release command so that she could learn that she needed to sit until he said it was OK to go. He tried it before I walked away and Shasta sat and stayed while I walked down the driveway and to my car. (Talk about a quick learner!)

As I drove away from their house, I knew everything was going to be OK. I smiled as I thought about what a beautiful new beginning it was for all of them. For my clients who were welcoming a new family member into their home and hearts and for Shasta, who was going to learn that she was now truly "home." I have a feeling they are all going to live happily ever after.

Am I ready for another dog?

A few weeks ago, during the heat wave, a friend of mine called and asked if I would babysit her dog for a few hours that evening. It was too hot for him to be in the car and she didn't have enough time to drive him back home. I, of course, said, "Yes!" It has been a while since I had a dog to hang out with in the house, and the fact that he was a german shepherd made the opportunity that much sweeter.

Bear is a rescue, whom my friend has only had for about 6 weeks, so she's still getting to know him. One thing she does know is that, in spite of all he had been through before he came to live with her, he has bonded with her and subsequently, has a little trouble being away from her. I was sure he would be fine in my capable hands . . . that is until she left, and then I started to wonder.

The second she pulled away from my house, he started to get really anxious. He paced around the front door, then ran into the backyard to see if there was a way out, then came back inside the house and whined and paced at the front door some more. I tried coaxing him away from the door, but he wouldn't budge.

This is one of those times where it's tough being an empathic person, because I literally felt every ounce of his anxiety in my own body. I tried to talk to him and assure him that his mom would be back in a few hours, I tried distracting him with treats, I tried everything I could think of and still, the anxiety hadn't lessened.

I decided that maybe a walk would be helpful, so he (and I) could work some of the anxiety out of our bodies. I put the leash on him and we had a nice walk around the neighborhood. When we got back to the house, I offered him some water (and I decided it was a good thing that I hadn't been able to part with Lucky's bowls yet). He drank some water and seemed OK for a minute, but then went back to the front door. He laid down in the entry way and pressed his nose against the door. He was a little calmer, which was a good thing, but he still was feeling anxiety about his mom's return.

After a little while, I decided maybe another walk was in order because I didn't think it would be good for him to spend the rest of the evening with his nose pressed against the door. He happily got up, and let me put the leash on him and he seemed pleased to be out walking again. We cruised around the neighborhood for a while and when I could feel an improvement in his anxiety level, we headed back to my house.

This time, after offering him some water, I was able to get him to lay down on the floor in the family room. I considered that a major accomplishment. :-) I put my hands on him and started to give him some Reiki, to see if the energy could help calm him further. Within a few minutes, I was flooded with emotion, as he showed me what had happened to him in his previous 6 years. When I say he "showed me" - it's not like they were clear pictures and specific instances. It's as if you are watching a movie at such a high speed that you can't actually see any of the images . . . but what I could feel were his emotions . . . the fear, the sadness, the loneliness, the despair. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I apologized to him for what he had been through and told him how sorry I was that he hadn't been treated the way he should have been. I told him that I knew his new mom really well and that I was certain he would never experience anything but love and kindness in her care.

When his mom returned to pick him up, he was over the moon. He kissed her and kissed her and laid at her feet and rolled over on his back and made all sorts of sweet sounds. He clearly knew she was a very special person and that he was very lucky to have found her. It was such a precious thing to witness.

As for me, I was really glad I got a chance to have a dog in the house, even if it was just for a short while. I loved spending time with him, it warmed my heart to have a german shepherd in the house again, however, I was clear that it wasn't time for me to have a dog myself. People keep asking me when I am going to get another dog and I keep saying I don't know. What I do know is that it just isn't time yet.

This week, as I approach the anniversary of Lucky's passing, I can feel little waves of grief cropping up, like this morning, when I woke up and remembered what the last Sunday of our life together was like. That was the morning that her arms gave out and I could sense that the end was near. As I laid there in bed, I remembered how I cancelled my appointments that day because I thought she was going to make her transition that evening. I remembered camping out on the floor with her, telling her all the things I wanted her to know before she left and how at peace we both were, even though I couldn't stop crying.

I thought about how she hung on for 4 more days after that, making sure I had learned all the lessons she had come to teach me. Regardless of whatever sadness may be creeping in this week, I know that what I feel most strongly is gratitude. Gratitude for having had the chance to spend 14 years of my life with my precious girl.

Someday, I know I'll be ready to have another dog, but for now, I am content to relish in the memories of the dog I had . . . the dog who loved me, valued me, inspired me and protected me more than anyone else ever had . . . the dog who changed my life in ways I didn't realized my life needed to be changed. This week, I will be cherishing the memories of our final days together and remembering all the things I learned during our 14 years together.

An Opossum encounter

Earlier this week, I was on a really long call with my insurance company. To make the frustrating call more tolerable, I decided to sit in the backyard, and get a little sun while we were trying to sort out the current paperwork fiasco that I have been dealing with.

While I was sitting there, I heard a strange noise above my head on the top of the fence and when I looked up I saw an opossum struggling to walk along the fence. I had a feeling he may fall off the fence and land on me, so I stood up to get out of the way. When I looked up at him, I saw that this poor little guy was in really bad shape. His head was all bloody and he was barely able to walk, he was so shaky. It broke my heart to see the condition he was in and I wanted nothing more than to help him.

If I hadn't been trying for months to resolve this insurance problem, I would have hung up the phone and just focused on the opossum, but I knew I needed to stay on the phone, since I was finally talking to someone who might be able to help me. I tried whispering to him, telling him not to be afraid, that I wouldn't hurt him, etc. but I couldn't stop him from leaving. He slowly turned around, almost falling off the fence and made his way back from the direction he came.

The rest of the call, I couldn't stop thinking about him. When I finally got off the phone, I went outside and looked for him. I checked all the bushes surrounding the back side of my house, but he was nowhere to be seen. I went back inside, feeling as though I had somehow let him down. For the rest of the afternoon and evening, I thought about him. I kept getting the image of his little face in my head, with the blood all over his forehead, and it was making me feel really sad.

That night when I got into bed, he was still on my mind. I decided to try to send him some Reiki. At first, I was nervous about it, not knowing if I would even be able to connect with him to send him energy. I was also worried that maybe he had already passed away and I wasn't sure I wanted to know that. I decided to give it a try anyway because I decided it couldn't hurt to give it a shot. As soon as I started sending energy to him, my hands started to throb. I don't know if I have ever sent Reiki to someone (human or animal) where my felt the energy that intensely. He was pulling energy so hard, I was sure that he was in real need of help.

I sent him Reiki for about 45 minutes and then I guess I fell asleep. When I was woken up by the garbage trucks at the shopping center behind me at 6:30am, I couldn't fall back asleep so I decided to try and send him some more energy. Much to my delight, I was able to connect with him again and happy when he pulled more energy, although not nearly as intensely as the night before. At least it let me know he was still alive, that he had made it through the night and that made me feel a lot better.

I am not sure how much he could understand of what I said to him, because I don't have a lot of experience communicating with wild animals, but I kept talking to him as if he understood. I told him I really hoped he was ok and that he could heal from whatever had happened to him. I told him that I would love to see him again and asked if he would come by sometime and let me see that he was alright.

I have no idea if I will ever see him again. I really hope I do because it would be wonderful to see him in better shape than the last time I saw him and have a more pleasant image to hold in my brain. Even if I don't see him again, I feel good knowing that I was able to do something. It is also nice to get some additional confirmation that all beings (human or animal) are receptive to energy. It seems as though it is a universal language that is understood by all souls.