The Bear and the Goat

Image: ‘Millie the Goat’ by Becky White with kind permission from Puget Sound Goat Rescue

The bear was sitting at the edge of the wood one day, just where the forest ends and the mountain begins. He was thinking about bad lumberjack companies and people . . . and ignorant hunters.

‘Oh,’ he sighed. ‘The wood isn’t what it used to be…”

At this precise moment, he was hit by gravel rolling down from the hill above. The goat came skidding fast towards him.

  ‘Ooopsydaisy,’ said the goat.

  ‘That could have been bad,’ rumbled the bear softly.

  ‘I apologise,’ said the goat. ‘I wasn’t thinking. I’m learning how to brake.’

  ‘I’m always thinking,’ said the bear. ‘I’m a poet.’

  ‘Lordy,’ said the goat. ‘And what do you poeticise?’

The bear was happy to give an example:

‘The wood is not what it once was

The elves don’t sit here in the grass,

Combing moonlit curls of moss,

The starling’s silent as a doe

It is a tale of awful woe…’

  That’s how far I’ve got.’ he said, looking a little dismayed.

  ‘It rhymes, … sort of, …’ said the goat. ‘but why is it so sad?’

  ‘Because everything’s sad,’ said the bear and told the goat about how the forest was changing.

  ‘Then you’ll have to do something about it. Hum an old ditty, chuck rocks at the lumberjacks, run into the hunters with a vengeance. Thinking will only make you melancholy.’

  ‘But what can a bear do?’

  ‘You can do something together with the other animals in the forest.’

  ‘Ah, you have no idea. The wolf has moved away. The badger has died. The fox hasn’t got time. The hares can’t even run in a straight line. The only audience I had for my last reading was a single butterfly. I feel utterly deserted.’

  ‘Then go away.’

  ‘But where to?’ The bear sighed. ‘Where to?’

  ‘Where to, where to. You can go up the mountain!’

  ‘But I don’t have the courage all by myself. I don’t even know if there’s anything to eat up there . . . And isn’t it up on the mountains above the clouds where the giants live, big bear-eating giants with fiery hair and huge earlobes?’

  ‘Ah what nonsense! There’s not a single giant up there. I’ll take you up the mountains and you’ll recite poems to me sometimes. I like poems somehow, I do. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morningand we climb to the top.’

Once the goat had left, the bear sat and pondered.

On the mountain top so lonely

Am I standing, one bear only

And there deep down below my feet

I see my home, it makes me weep,

Oh my heart is heavy so

Beloved home I had to go.

‘Oh, what a beautiful poem!’

The bear had thought himself into such sadness that the started sniffling a bit, then he snuffled and finally gave in to bohooing so loudly that a bird mother tweeted into her chick’s ear, ‘Can you hear the bear? Oh, yes, the poets carry a heavy share of the world’s fate.’

The following morning the bear woke up because something hurt. The goat was running one of her horns into his ribs.

  ‘Oh poor tired bear that I am…’ he mumbled, still half asleep.

  ‘We’re going up the mountain,’ said the goat. ‘Come on, lazybones.’

  ‘I’ll have to take something to eat. I’ll be ready the day after tomorrow. And I’ll have to make a poem…’

  ‘And besides, and besides, and besides…’ said the goat.    ‘Nothing but excuses. Come on… up you go, we have to do some climbing.’

The bear understood this was serious business, so he sighed and he groaned and he stumbled to his feet, and while he was doing that, he worked on a new poem.

Huffing and puffing, he told it to the goat.

  The time is here, the time is here

  I’ll be a goat, shake off my fur

  And I’ll be such a stunner

  But if the mountain’s peaky patch

  Does not come up to scratch…

  Then I will do a runner.

The goat laughed so hard at this new poem that she had to sit down.

The bear was proud. He sat next to the goat and said, ‘See, while you were only climbing, I made this poem. And making a poem is exhausting, too. When you make poetry, you can’t climb so fast. And poets have to eat well, otherwise their stomach interferes with their art and the poems come out all grumbly.

  ‘Hm,’ said the goat thoughtfully. ‘What do think of blackberries?’

  ‘Ooh, like them. Where are they?’

  ‘If we go just a little bit higher, there are lots and lots of wild blackberries.’ said the goat.

The bear sighed, but he trotted after the goat who was leading him slowly towards the blackberry bushes. The bear ate his fill. Then he lay down on the ground.

  ‘Hey,’ said the goat, ‘we have to keep going.’

  ‘First I have to rest a while. We poets need to be fresh for our work, dear goat.’

  ‘Fine,’ said the goat. ‘I will wait a little while. But not for long. And while you gather your strength, perhaps you can make a little poem for me?’

The Bear cleared his throat and said,

‘I’m blackbear, full of blackberry sweet,

All from my head down to my feet.’

  ‘Very nice. But now we have to go on. This is the most difficult part.’

  ‘Oh well,’ sighed the bear, but he obeyed.

They got to a rather steep bit. There were crevices, loose rocks and gravel. The goat showed the bear where to hold onto. The bear moaned and puffed, but he got on steadily.

The goat however felt it was too slow. She was impatient. She started doing tricks and feats. That’s when it happened: She came across a loose piece of rock, which slid away from underneath her hoof, she tumbled, and – nothing like this had ever happened to her before – she fell into a tight crevice. There she was, stuck.

The bear didn’t think for a moment. He crawled towards the edge of the cliff, reached down, put his mighty paw underneath the goat and lifted her out with his bear hands.

The goat was totally exhausted from the shock, and it took a while for her to even be able to stammer, ‘Tha-thank you bear. You… s-saved me.’

  ‘Don’t mention it, ‘said the bear, ‘It was nothing. Nothing at all.’

  ‘You know,’ said the goat, ‘I was a tiny bit afraid you might make a poem about the rescue first, and that I would slide deeper and deeper into the crevice and never manage to get back out again.’

  ‘My goat, whatever do you think of me? I’ll have to make a poem however, so this courageous deed can be recorded for posterity…’

  ‘Very well then. You take a little break and I’ll get you some blackberries for your reward.’

  ‘But please be careful when I’m not with you.’

  ‘Of course,’ said the goat, climbing back up while the bear lay down on a sun-warmed rock to do his poetry. But however much he tried, he couldn’t come up with anything.

  ‘Big deeds speak for themselves,’ he said to the goat afterwards as he ate her blackberries.

  ‘You know,’ said the goat, a little shyly, ‘I kind of had an idea, which is sort of … something like a poem … perhaps …’

  ‘What?’ shouted the bear. ‘You? A poem? Tell me!’

‘The goat, she was in trouble such,

Movie Night with Mizzle

 

 

 

Saturday night cat sitting, just after Christmas . . . I’m downstairs on the sofa, doing stuff on my iPad while only barely watching TV because, let’s face it, TV is not that interesting these days.

Hikaru, the orange ‘shrimp kitty’ has been snuggling next to me for the last hour or two. I can never quite figure out if he loves me or the hand crotcheted blankie more. The blankie zaps him with static electricity but my good old-fashioned belly rubs are a serious contender. It’s a close race, I think. 

 

Next thing I know there’s a “Meow, meow, MEOW” coming from the stairs. I turn around. It’s the upstairs tiger kitty enticing me to follow her. 

“Mizzle . . .!” I say. “What’s up . . ?”

“Meow, meow, meow! MEOW!”

“Are you kidding? It’s not bed time yet . . . way too early for me . . .”

But she’s not giving up.“Meow, meow, meow, meow . . !”

Looking back at the TV, I have to admit she’s got a point. It’s been really lame, and not just tonight. There’s nothing I could do here that I couldn’t also do in bed. 

“Okay then,” I say. “But I’m still going to watch stuff!”

I grab my things, tell Hikaru to come join us once he’s done zapping himself and get moving. Mizzle runs up ahead of me. She’s not called me to bed before, that’s definitely a first. I’m curious to see what she’s got on her mind . . .

Upstairs Mizzle squints as I turn on the lights. “What . . ?” I laugh. “You know well that humans are not lucky enough to have eyes like yours that can see in the dark. . .” 

Next I give the wood stove a nod. I call it Marvin . . . the white round shape reminds me of the robot from the Hitchhikers Guide movie. I feel a bit sorry for him because the design works much better on a wood stove. (No offense to Douglas Adams, it’s the movie design people that failed to grasp the chance of a lifetime. Marvin, the depressed robot, should have been awesome.)

I put my iPad down, informing Mizzle that I’m not ready yet, humans have all kinds of stuff to do before they’re allowed to go to bed. 

Finally it’s all taken care of. I carefully lift the covers and get in next to Mizzle, the night lover kitty, who usually pretends not to know me during daylight hours. Reaching out to pet her, she rewards me with a sweet throaty purr. Ahhh . . . that sound never fails . . . A world with a purr is a good world . . . 

I grab my iPad from the side table and open it up.“So . . . Mizzie . . . what shall we watch . . ?”

This could take a while. Netflix has been awful recently, loads of crap movies, violent to the extent of being gory or full of dystopia and bad ‘humpy’ sex. Topping it off with male leads that apparently have never come across razors and their stunning capabilities of making people look nice. 

But, tonight apparently, we’re in luck. ‘The Art of the Steal’ looks like it could be a hoot. Click to load and off we go . . . 

The beginning credits are already promising good action ahead. Mizzle has her head on my arm and I notice, much to my surprise, that she is actually watching. Her eyes are getting big with fascination, rolling left, right and up and down with the movement in front of her, following the names on the screen as they are flying in and out in all directions. 

Once the scene is set and the plot is moving along Kurt Russell shows us how to ride a motorbike like a boss. Fast. Furious! We watch, captivated. Man, what a chase, this really is fun . . . Mizzle’s eyes are getting bigger and bigger, I can almost hear her go ‘vroom vroom!’ with her head hooked on the bike chase. She looks like she has half a mind to jump on the back seat. In her excitement she starts pawing the screen . . .  I’m not really sure if she wants to catch the riders and eat them or just turn up the speed some more. 

 

Race over, we all take a breath. Kurt Russell is safe for now, phew. We can get back to more gentle plot moving. But apparently paintings and art heists are not as much up Mizzle’s street as fast chases. I can tell she’s losing interest, and so am I. Hmmm . . .  what to do . . . 

A thought comes to mind. A number of years back I tried to get my cat’s attention, which led me to the weird and wonderful world of movies made for felines. Pulling up YouTube, I do a search on ‘videos for cats’. Voilà, what a selection . . . videos with birds, fish and all kinds of other attractions. 

“Wanna watch some birdies, Mizzle?”

She stares at me in the half dark. I’m not entirely sure if she has a scathing look on her face, perhaps sending me a thought along the lines of ‘what is it with humans and baby language . . ?’

 

I decide to ignore it though and click on the first option. It’s a real video of birds… okay . . . They flutter around, chirping and singing . . . hmm . . . 

“They’re pretty, aren’t they?” I say, looking over at her.She pretends not to be interested at first, but then the movement and tweeting grabs her. Guess who’s getting excited? 

Suddenly her paw shoots across my screen so fast I can hardly follow. Tap! Tap! And another one, tap! Now she’s totally getting into it. TAP! TAP! And another one, yay! TAP TAP!

Now I’m beginning to fear for my iPad. I have created a monster! Cat claws and screens? Help! Quick, put on something less exciting! 

Two lightning fast clicks. “Here,” I say. “How about these fish…?”

Pretty goldfish swimming from left to right… right to left. 

Tap . . . tap . . . much slower, less scratching: waaaay better!

I’m breathing a sigh of relief. Looks like my screen, like Kurt Russell, is out of danger. 

Mizzle gives me a ‘look’, stretches, then yawns.I can swear she’s making that ‘you’re getting old and boring’ face.
Nevermind. It’s time to turn off the iPad and the light. 

“Goodnight, Mizzie . . .” I say as I lie down.

She scrambles up into the crook of my elbow and purrs.
Ahhh . . . all is forgiven . . . purr . . . purr . . . 

“Admit it, Mizzie, that was fun!”

“Purr . . .  PURR . . .  snore . . .” she says, her legs kicking a little bit, perhaps to get the bike started, as she’s riding off into dreams that mere humans know nothing about. 

Closing my eyes I drift into dreamland too, wondering if that really was Kurt Russell on the back seat of Mizzle’s bike. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Embarrassment by Intuition, or How Jose Got his Legs Back

Working with intuition can be a wonderful thing. It is great to receive immediate feedback by way of sensing what is happening with your human or animal client. My intuition however, seems to have some kind of a naughty streak that occasionally delights in putting me in embarrassing situations.

A few weeks ago my client was an adorable little male Chihuahua, Jose, who had trouble using his legs. Disregarding a prognosis of him possibly not being able to walk again his mommy had decided to give other kinds of healing a try. One of them was emotional release ‘Unicorn Code style’.

During our Skype call the web camera was trained on Jose as he was lying there in his little bed, pretty much motionless. Starting with the treatment I identified the first two emotions, which I then proceeded to release for him. Much to my surprise my pendulum indicated that this already completed what I call the ‘general sweep’, the initial house cleaning to deal with what sits right on top of the heap.

The major issue about Jose was that his leg troubles had made it impossible for him to stand up, which was a big worry for Katie, not in the least because he had not been able to pee in two days. It did not surprise me therefore that once we had worked with the standing up issue, a big part of the session was taken up by emotional releases from the kidney and bladder area. After letting go of a handful of other old emotions ‘worthless’ came up.

That made sense to both of us. Not being able to stand up and therefore not being able to relieve himself unaided could well demoralize any self respecting Chihuahua.

As I ran my magnet to clear the unwanted energy off his system I suddenly had a weird sensation. It concerned my ‘private parts’, so I hesitated for a moment before I spoke.
“I have a feeling like I need to go to the bathroom, but I kind of know that I don’t…” I said, laughing a little.

I was grateful that Katie didn’t laugh at me one bit.

“Do you think I should take him outside and see if he wants to pee?”

That sounded like a good idea. “Yes, go for it!”

She folded the cover back that was keeping him warm and started to chuckle.

“It’s soaked here…! He already ‘went’,” she called over her shoulder.

Katie and I both noticed the relief of that, though we agreed that Jose would have felt it most! It was a promising development for his condition, and the change showed up instantly. He had been listless and lethargic to begin with, but now we could clearly see him perk up.

Continuing with the session we found that he had been blaming himself, possible for losing his capabilities but perhaps even more so for the other big issue in his life, the loss of his best and beloved buddy, a cat named Mr Cuddles. A lot of grief related emotions came up for release as we moved on to help him over that sad event in his recent life experience. Anger, heartache, resentment were all part of the mix that this poor doggie had been carrying around.

Eventually we identified ‘shock’ that had lodged in his energy six lifetimes ago. As he was letting go of it he gave a deep sigh, indicating the nice, solid release of a key emotion.

“Time for a good swig of water!” I said.

Katie went to refill her glass in the kitchen, while I kept my attention on the screen. I watched in amazement as Jose turned his head and looked up at me, straight into Katie’s laptop camera. It felt like he was looking me right in the eyes, which was very odd indeed. First of all, because my camera wasn’t even on, I was only on audio, but secondly because here was a dog who somehow knew that if you want to look someone at the other end of a web link in the eye, you don’t look at the screen, you look into the camera, which is usually right above the screen. Most humans don’t even understand that, and here was a little doggie that totally ‘got it’. I was impressed!

I called out in delight and started to talk to him, telling him what a wonderful dog he was, and that I was so proud about how well he was doing. His eyes moved, it was almost as if he wanted to hug me whenever I spoke. Of course he couldn’t, so he did the next best thing and responded with enthusiastic tail wagging.

For the remainder of the session Jose kept moving his legs and head, stretching, looking around, showing us how much better and how relieved he was feeling – in all ways! At one point it even looked like he was trying to stand up.

I was kind of hoping that he would, but had to remind myself to stay open minded, allow him to do the process at his own pace. So we proceeded gently, releasing another handful of emotions that were specifically geared to let go of any issues about standing up and being able to support himself. Then we moved on to do a quick sweep for his mommy and his lost buddy.

Whenever I work with pets I find it very beneficial to include their people in the treatment. If there has been a loss in the family I usually make a point to include the one that has passed as well. In sessions like that, I see more and more how the energies of animals and their people intermingle. Our bonds are much closer than many of us suspect, sometimes it is as if we are passing emotions back and forth like tennis balls.

The patterns that emerge from these releases are often quite beautiful. We share some emotions, deal with a few of our own, go a few lives into the past and then we reconnect, come back to exchange some more as we help each other on our paths.

If I had ever had any doubts about whether life goes on after the event that we call death, doing this work would have taught me otherwise very quickly. Every time I have done emotional release on an animal that has passed over I have felt the connection strongly because their energy is intact. Just as we can drag old energetic baggage from one life through to the next so can our pets.

That was also the case for Mr Cuddles. Leaving a dear, loving family behind can be hard, especially when their presence has been a reality for so many years. I could tell from the emotions that showed up how his process of passing had started and how he moved through the different stages. Once I had cleared terror, grief, loss of control, anger and confusion from his system I felt the relief of calm and peace from him, and we all knew that wherever he would go from there he could start pretty much unburdened, with a clear and clean slate.

When I contacted Katie for an update two days later, she said that Jose had been feeling much better and more cheerful in spirit but had not been able to stand properly yet. Because he also had not had any bowel movement she had made a vet appointment. We had discussed the possibility in our session. I had recommended a vet visit if she felt any need for it at all. There had been so many emotions on his kidney and bladder that I could not be sure if he was going to need veterinary care. Sometimes that is necessary when we don’t catch things early enough.
We did a quick follow up treatment to help prepare him for the visit. He released another whole level of emotions that took quite a load off him. Afterwards I called Katie to see how it had gone and was told to my relief that he had pooped in the car on the way there.

“And right now he’s peeing again!”

Well done me, I thought. Looks like I have made a new dog friend, one who is going to pee whenever he hears my voice now!

The good news is that together with some other remedies, Jose is using his legs again to stand and walk. Still a bit wobbly, but he is demonstrating the spirit and the determination to make a full recovery.

The most recent communication I had included a video of him enjoying an almost steady walk around the garden, including doing his ‘business’!

Way to go, Jose!

The Secret Lives of our Pets

 

Feeling somewhat heartbroken today… I heard about a beautiful boy kitty who had been put ‘to sleep’ due to a growth in his abdomen. Apparently one of the female cats in the household took it badly and my offer of help by way of an online emotional release session was accepted.

In previous treatments she had released a fair number of old burdens that had been troubling her. Now it quickly became obvious, though it still surprised me, how much grief and sadness she was carrying from this recent experience, not just for herself, but for the whole family, including the deceased kitty.

I love to help people and animals feel better, but it also really saddens me to see how far we still have to go in gaining general acceptance for energy work and acknowledging its power. Sometimes I just want to bang my head – and everyone else’s – in frustration. Are we really so brainwashed that we can only have faith in preparations that have been cooked up in labs and ignore all the other wonderful and supportive ways we have available to ensure the well-being and longevity of our beloved companions?

There is no way of telling whether that cat would still be alive now if I had got to him sooner. From the results of his treatment I can piece together a little bit of his story which tells me that something bad happened to him at the age of ten months. He had responded with hatred, so strongly, that when I connected to it, it made me want to cry forever. The emotion had remained stuck in his energy system for the rest of his life, almost four whole years. He had already come in with the trapped emotion of self abuse and the combination of the two would have only made it worse. I felt convinced that he was abused when I found that he had also picked up hatred from someone in his environment as a resonant emotion.

At that stage my eyes began to hurt in the back of my head. As a triple whammy hatred came right up again, this time as a past life trapped emotion. My eyes were hurting badly now and the phrase ‘blinding hatred’ sprang to mind. Once we released that along with some past life worry I felt fine again, a good sign that he had let go of the emotion completely.

When I first started doing this work I was continuously startled by what came up in the sessions, the strength of feelings that needed to be released, even for tiny little kittens and puppies. But I learned very quickly that they experience things every bit as much as we do and my compassion for what they go through, sometimes purely for our sake, knows no bounds these days.

In energy work feelings like hatred and resentment are connected to the liver. When I queried the location i was told that the little black kitty’s growth was indeed found in the liver and kidney area. As I said, I have no guarantee that he would be alive now if we had released those energies before the vet pronounced him a hopeless case but I find myself wondering if his condition might have been treatable rather than lead to a death sentence.

I feel very sad that I didn’t get the chance to at least try and help before it was too late. As it is I could only ease his transition across the rainbow bridge and help his family cope with his loss.

I wonder what it would take for more people to understand that we are not at the mercy of pharmaceuticals and their limits, that unwellness can be likened to a traffic jam of blocked issues and emotions. These days we have so many tools to let go of blockages, to make energies move freely again and circulate in the way they are supposed to, restoring balance and ultimately health and well-being in the process.

As long as I need to make a living I have to charge for my sessions, but it can’t just be a money issue because vet fees are much higher and I have never turned away anyone for lack of funds. I am looking forward to a time when my living does not depend on what I do and until then I will be as flexible and accommodating as I can, but the question still remains: How can we convince more people to give this a try when even in progressive California it is still being seen as ‘too woo-woo’ by so many?

 

 

How Emotion Code Release Work can help getting over the loss of a pet.

Life, the Universe and Everything

Most of us know that losing a beloved pet is just as bad as losing a family member, as a recent study confirmed. Reaching out for help in such a situation is recommended because we often tend to underestimate what is really going on.

About a week ago I was asked to do an emotional release session for a lady who I will call Mary. She had lost a little dog who she had been very close to and wanted help with the grieving process and feeling better about the turn of events. While we got to a point of conclusion at the time, were unable to get her to a place where she felt completely restored to her former self. I suggested that a treatment on the dog might be the missing key.

It may sound strange to think about doing a session on an animal that has passed…

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CommuniCATion

(a story about my first experiences with animal communication many years ago)

One of the aspects that fascinates me most about living with cats is seeing the way they make choices, come to conclusions and put their decisions into practice. Chouchou for example would always claim the space in my lap when I was at the computer, while Brodie had made it clear that to the right of me on the sofa was his place in the evening.

What intrigued me even more than that though was when I began to suspect that there was more communication possible between us than the usual ‘here kitty kitty’ kind of exchanges.

There had already been some occasions that were almost startling in their clarity of transmission, like that one time when everyone seemed to be intent on a fight to the death against the big bad worming pill.

We were all stressed out and agitated, and after Chouchou had managed to escape from my lovingly wrapped towel burrito again – God knows how she did it! – I sat on the floor looking at her, just about at the end of my tether, and exclaimed, “Why why why will you not take this medicine?”

To which she calmly replied, straight into my mind and with perfect clarity, so
as to avoid any doubts whatsoever: “You don’t take any of that stuff yourself. Why should we?”

I was floored, in every possible way. How had she picked up on the fact that I
avoided any pharmacological products if at all possible, and more than that, that I actually considered most of them detrimental? It was astounding…

 

That experience had a profound effect on me. First of all it proved to me that my
cats were a lot more than fluffy objects of affection or entertainment and that
their activities extended way beyond the generally acknowledged eat, sleep and
get petted kind of lifestyle. It became obvious to me that their learning scope
reached further than the location of their food bowl and the paths around the
garden, it actually looked like they made pretty abstract decisions about
themselves and their lives. I suddenly understood that they were not ‘mere pets’
but rather beings in their own right and should be treated as house mates with
equal rights, to be respected and considered, just like myself.

After that eye opening event I started to watch for further demonstrations of my
new found understanding. Books like J Allen Boone’s Kinship With All Life had already opened my eyes for the possibility of better and deeper communication, so it wasn’t too hard to see it happening in my life with my own fur babies.

I spend a lot of my time at the computer, not just for work but also for
education and enjoyment, and yes, I have to admit there are times when it even
gets to go to bed with me. My youngest kitty, Bubu had adopted the habit of watching for my bedtime and when she’d see me get ready she would jump on the bed to curl up beside me.

One such night I was reading longer than expected because of some articles
on a new age site I was engrossed in. The words were having a deep effect on me, I felt stimulated and uplifted. At one point my eyes were pulled off the screen though as Bubu caught my attention.

She was sitting facing me, slightly to the left, but instead of being curled up snoozing her little face was resting on the paws that were folded up under her. She was watching me.
Looking up at her beautiful features I was bowled over by her adorable cuteness
and couldn’t take my eyes off her. I was overflowing with love for this
delightful little bundle.

Then Bubu did something I had never seen her do before. She began to move her
head, her eyes full of wonder, almost as if she was tracing a halo around my
head and back, again and again. I looked at her, tears welling  up, laughing at
the same time. “Bubu, what are you doing…?”

The answer came more as a sense of understanding rather than words: “Watching
fireworks…”

I burst out laughing. Of course… She was looking at my aura where the
intensity of the love and joy I was feeling must have set in motion a light show
like she had never seen before!

At that moment something else occurred to me. Time for an experiment…  I looked straight at Bubu and very intently formed the following thought as a message while at the same time
putting my hand palm up in front of her: ‘Bubu, if you can ‘hear’ this, put your
paw in my hand.’

Then I watched to see what would happen.

I had to repeat it a couple of times but then, quick as lightning, her paw touched my
palm and was gone again.

I blinked. Did that really happen? I thought I was pretty sure but the moment had been so brief I also had doubts. Could be wishful thinking…!

Hm…

‘Ok,’ I thought, directed at her. ‘That was so fast, I didn’t really get it. Could you do it again please?’

This time I totally felt her resistance. She was Wild Junior Princess Kitty and not here to be used as a lab rat! How slow can those humans be…? I mean, d’uh…!

But Bubu loved me as much as I loved her and so again, the extraordinary
happened… Her paw quickly tapped my palm and this time round, as soon as it
was done, with the grace of a ballet dancer she changed into position for a
grooming session. .

‘Oh, sorry, did I hit you there…? I just needed to stretch for my night time
bath…’

I laughed at this complete denial of her acquiescence but I also had to admire the
spunk and attitude in that little ball of fur.

Lil’Bit – About a Healing Journey

The other day I was asked to assist a boy kitty whose attitude and behavior had deteriorated over the years. The loss of his best friend and eventual introduction of other pets into the household had been too much for him to cope with. He had taken to peeing in the wrong places until the situation got so bad that he had to be kept in a separate room. Most definitely, an Emotion Code session was in order…

It was a remote treatment via instant messaging and so I started the process of releasing his trapped emotions by getting permission to act as his proxy. Once that was given and the connection made I picked up my pendulum to identify the first trapped emotion, which turned out to be a whole batch: humiliation, jealousy, longing, lust, overwhelm, picked up around age 8-9. They were all released together. Next came another batch, this one specifically pertaining to kidney and bladder: blaming fear, dread, horror, peeved, all picked up from around age 5-6

After that, two single emotions, worry and anxiety, both from age 0-1.

Once those two were released, I noticed something odd: I began to feel bubbly and giggly, almost giddy, and then, all of a sudden, tearful, a need to be held and cradled. That had never happened before.

‘ Do you have time to cuddle him?’ I asked.
‘Sure!’  said his mom, taking him in her arms.

By now tears were streaming down my face as if they were never going to stop. It felt like a dam had been broken, and a lot of upset was coming out into the open.

Eventually I felt it culminate with a message: ‘ I wasn’t peeing, mom… I was crying through my weenie . . . ‘ and ‘I am so glad you can hear me now!’

‘He’s purring…and burbling… Seems fine now – he’s off and grooming himself!’

I felt calmer too, and my tears had subsided.

My pendulum said we still had emotions to release so we continued. The next three batches were all inherited from his daddy, who must have had a really tough time in his own life, too. They were the last ones though.

I was relieved because it had been quite an intense session for the little kitty. Time to digest and integrate!

His mom gave me some information that matched up the timeline with the findings from my pendulum. I was impressed to see how systematic Lil’Bit’s treatment had been. He had released the more recent emotions first, going back through the times when a dog and two cats were added to his life after he had been unable to deal with the loss of his best friend, all the way back to the first year of his life when his people rescued him from the shelter death row. Only after that was he able to go back to the loss of his dearest Buddy and let go of the anger he had been carrying about that for over five years.

Releasing the anger opened his heart. It allowed him to trust again, and he felt safe enough to communicate to me a sense of wanting to be held. When his mom responded with love and care he could finally connect and release his most major heartache. I was crying the tears for him as I received the other messages that almost broke my heart in their simplicity: ‘ I wasn’t peeing, mom… I was crying through my weenie…’

Cats don’t cry the way humans do. The only liquid they have to shed is their urine, which unfortunately is one that upsets their people, especially when we don’t understand the communication or when we don’t know what to do about it.

At that stage of the treatment, be it for people or for animals, I always feel immensely touched and privileged to be part of such an intimate experience. I can only liken it to the sense of grace and mystery that happens during the metamorphosis of the chrysalis into the butterfly. Releasing our outdated emotions brings us step by step to the experience of who we really are – beings of true love and beauty.

After a transformation of this magnitude I was not surprised to hear that Lil’Bit looked a bit awkward and tentative in his own skin, but he ‘took to his litter box that evening and stayed as long as he needed to’.

I am pretty sure that Lil’Bit will find his own self again pretty quickly. He seems a smart kitty who knows what he wants!

Little Sweetie Has A Plan.

  

 

It was a beautiful Sunday in late March. Allen and I were sitting outside under the redwoods basking in the warmth of the sun. We had an appointment later on to go view a car that was for sale on the other side of the bay, a little more than an hour’s drive away but for now, we were still relaxing and enjoying the day.

Little Sweetie, our big momma cat, came wandering over to us, meowing.

“Hey, Sweetie,” said Allen, reaching out to pet her. ‘What’s up, pretty girl?’

Sweetie snuggled into his caress for a bit; then she meowed and kept walking. When she got to where I was, I ran my hands over her lovely, black spotted white back. Two of the spots were close to each other and when she sat a certain way they looked like a heart shape.

Sweetie was a beautiful kitty (all our cats were, of course!) with big inquisitive eyes. She was really smart and the undisputed matriarch, who had it all under control always keeping a good eye on everything. Right now, she was ‘big as a cow’.

“When are you going to give us your babies, Sweetie?” I asked, stroking her. “You look like you’re ready to burst any moment…”

She arched her back and meowed again. The she started walking down the trail towards the neighbors’ but as soon as she came to the steps she turned around and came back up, meowing again. She did that several times, until I said “Looks like Sweetie wants us to follow her…”

Allen laughed. “Haha,” he said. “You mean as in ‘Lassie’ – when she’d bark to mean ‘Come on, Timmy…!’ ?”

I laughed as well. “Perhaps… “

I kept watching Sweetie, who was still doing her loops. “Let’s just go and see what she wants.”

“Alright then,” Allen got up and together we followed Sweetie down the trail to the steps and past the first neighbor to the Harper’s house.

We lived about a half mile off Highway 9, not too close, but we always kept the traffic in mind. People often came from ‘over the hill’ in Silicon Valley, high on the adrenalin rush of their fast little ‘super cars’ flying round the bends in the Santa Cruz Mountains, racing to get to the beach or other ‘urgent’ destinations. While we were aware that our cats went walking on down the drive we were also doing our best to make sure we didn’t encourage them to get close to the road.

The neighbor that Sweetie had got to was still quite a stretch from the highway. Nevertheless we began to feel a little uncomfortable about her going there, and so we said “That’s far enough, Sweetie. Come on, we’re going back up now… Let’s go home!”

We started walking back up the bank to the house with Sweetie following us, reluctantly, it seemed.

Once there, we sat down to resume our previous relaxing and enjoying. Sweetie decided to resume her meowing and pacing.

After a while, I couldn’t watch it any longer. I had to find out what she was trying to say. After all, we were both trying to be animal communicators, I thought. This was a pretty obvious case for practice in my eyes.

“I think Sweetie still has something she wants to show us. I’m going to go down and see where she wants to take me.” Then I turned to Little Sweetie and said, “Let’s go, sweetie. Show me what’s up…”

She ran off down the hill with me following. Down the bank and past the neighbor’s we went. When we got the Harper’s she disappeared under their house among garden chairs and other summer paraphernalia that were stowed there. There was a lattice that was big enough for a cat to get in but not for a human.

I stood and peered in. “I can’t follow you in there, Sweetie…” I called. “It’s too small for me…”

No problem for Sweetie. She walked all the way through to the other side and came back out there. Then, all of a sudden, she was gone.

I walked to the side of the house and looked up the banks there. No sign whatsoever of black and white ‘football sized’ Sweetie. Hm… She had to be around somewhere, she couldn’t just vanish… Well, actually, I believe that cats can disappear and reappear at will, but I was sure this was not such an instance.

Walking up the side of the house a redwood stump caught my eye. Intuition began to beep with excitement. ‘I bet she’s in there!’

I really didn’t want to stick my hand in there not knowing what I would find… I went back up to the house to fetch a mirror and a flashlight. Shining it into the stump confirmed exactly what I had expected: There was Little Sweetie, so snug and cozy, curled up in her perfect hideaway I could have sworn she was grinning at me

I ran back to the house. “Allen…!” I called. “You gotta see this…!”

“What?”

“Let me show you…!”

Allen eventually got up from his seat and followed me. Down the trail to the steps, past the neighbor’s.

“Where are we going?” he said.

“Wait for it, you won’t believe what she’s got, it’s totally awesome…”

Allen followed me around to the other side of the Harper’s house listening to my account of what had happened.

“She came all the way down here and then she disappeared. I figured she must be here somewhere, and guess what – “ I pointed to the stump.

Up the bank we went and when we got to it I shined my light on to the mirror that I had pointed inside it.

There she was, looking cool and pretty darn smug for an expectant mother.

We were both full of praise. “Wow, Sweetie, what a lovely little ‘cabin’ you found yourself! Well done, pretty girl. You are awesome!” Then we walked back up to the house, talking about what an amazing kitty she was to find that stump and lead us to it the way she did. It felt like we could be the next ‘Flipper’ or ‘Lassie’ people. We didn’t know half of it yet…

It was soon time for us to get into the car and drive over to Livermore to see the vehicle we were thinking of buying. It took almost three hours before we were back again.

As usual, all of our cats came running out to greet us as we drove up… all, except Sweetie, that is. We fed the hungry crowd and then called for her to come join us.

Sweetie didn’t appear though. She’s probably having a snooze somewhere, we said, and sat down to check emails and messages.

An hour later she still hadn’t showed up.

‘You know,” I said to Allen, “I bet she’s in her stump…”

“Knowing Sweetie, she could well be. Let’s go and see…”

Down the trail and the steps we went, past the neighbors’ house and up the other side of the Harper’s.

When we got to the stump I shined the light and said, “I think I can see her.”

Allen reached in. He was braver than I was… then he smiled.

“What is it? What is it?” I got really excited.

He pulled out his arm and showed me what he held in his hand. It was a beautiful newly born kitten, black and white like Sweetie.

“The first thing I felt when I reached in…”

I let out a squeal of delight. “She’s had her kittens, and all by herself! While we were gone…!”

“How many are there…?” I asked.

“At least three.” Allen said.

We debated briefly if it was best to leave them where they were or if we should bring them all up to the house. The house won, and I ran up to get the kitten bed for safe and snug transport. One by one Allen picked them out, handing them to me to put in the bed. There were five, all healthy and well. Sweetie came out last, accompanied by major praise from us. Then I took the bed and, Allen followed me up to the house, carrying Sweetie. We had to stop halfway because she became anxious about her kittens until we showed her that I had them all, safe and sound in the basket bed I was cradling close to me.

We placed her in the closet where she had had her first litter the year before and where we knew the familiar smells and sounds would reassure her while at the same time give the kitties a perfect nursery.

Once all was taken care of we looked at each other and gradually it dawned on us what Sweetie’s Master Plan had been all along.

“She knew we would be gone because we told her.”
“She must also have known she would be having the babies this afternoon.”

“And so she found the perfect place where she could have them all by herself AND told us beforehand where she would be in case we came back and didn’t find her…!”

“She must have totally planned this. I wonder what she was thinking when we were so slow to get her meaning…”

I giggled, imagining Sweetie’s comments: “Humans… I wonder if they ever use those big brains …?”

Little Sweetie when she was a baby, meeting a big Labradoodle. She was not afraid of anything! (photo: Allen Atkinson)

Flying With Freddie (I Know These Are Not Cats #2 )

It was a perfect day to fly to San Francisco. Mind you, that could probably be said about any day, really… despite the fact that I hadn’t slept. Or exactly because I hadn’t slept.

The first leg from Scotland to Frankfurt was in a very small aircraft, which felt more like a sports car than an airplane, and the power of the take off left nothing to be desired. There were only two rows of seats on either side; mine was a window seat, chosen the night before through online check-in. Next to me sat a young man with short dreadlocks. Dark skinned, quiet, he seemed pleasant enough.

The cabin crew went through the usual safety instructions, after which our scheduled snack arrived. It was a breakfast flight, but I was still pleasantly surprised to find fruit salad and a muesli bar on my plate. Just in time, too – I was ravenous!

Once that was finished, I packed up the wrapper and container, waiting for the cabin attendants to take them away, when I noticed a tickle on my right hand – a fly had decided it required inspection.

‘Hey, little buddy…’ I thought, ‘how did you get in here?’ This wasn’t exactly a safe place for a tiny fly like this. He seemed to be quite young still, especially for an adventure of this magnitude, flying over to Europe all by himself.

I shot a quick glance at the flight attendants, relieved to find they hadn’t spotted him.

‘Listen,’ I said. ‘This is really not a good place for you. I am concerned that someone else will spot you and swat you, and that’d be the end of the merriness.’

He seemed in no hurry to go away for now, so I offered to keep him safe as best I could if he would care to stick around me. He kept doing his loops and sways but always came back to me, which made me hopeful that I was getting through. Just to be sure though, I repeated my offer a few times.

Well, there he was, the little fellow… circling around me and landing on my sleeve or my hands again and again. But then he ventured out a bit too far and was instantly met with a swatting motion from my neighbour.

I looked the young man straight in the eyes and said, ‘I told him he could stay around me because other people might kill him…’

He looked at me sharply without saying a word. I wasn’t sure whether he spoke any English or not, but decided to leave it at that for the time being.

In the meantime I had christened my visitor Freddie, in honour of my ‘mentor’, J Allen Boone, whose animal communication stories, especially of his experiences with the ‘Musca’ species that Freddie belonged to, had touched and delighted me very much.

Freddie was still flying crazy circles and swoops, every so often landing on my arm again. By this time it had become quite clear that he was spending an unusual time sitting on my sleeve and walking around there, having fun inspecting the ‘landscape’ I provided.

The young man next to me still hadn’t said anything. I felt an odd sense of puzzlement and confusion from him. This was a fly, something that humans usually didn’t want in their environment, something that could carry germs and stuff… why would I choose to have this thing sitting there, walking all over me…?

Freddie did another of his loops, again crossing a boundary and was once more rewarded with a swiping motion from my neighbour. I gently put up my hand to deter him and said, ‘This is my friend…’

He shrugged about this eccentric ‘older woman’, for that’s how I must have appeared to him. Nevertheless, and much to my relief, he stopped any offensive action after that.

We were getting close to touch down, so I offered Freddie the option of smuggling him out of the aircraft if he was willing and able to hide on my right shoulder. I explained that my left one was too dangerous for him as that was where I usually had the shoulder strap of my handbag. I told him several times what the plan was and was hoping he would follow.

As the airplane taxied to its designated place at the dock, the cabin crew thanked us for flying ‘Star…something’. I didn’t quite understand what they said until I looked out and saw it written on the sides of the aircraft before us: ‘Star Alliance’! Of course, I thought… two months to Ascension – what else would we be flying but alliance with our star family!

Eventually we came to a stop. The doors opened and everyone began to head for the exit but Freddie was nowhere to be seen. I sent a prayer for his safety and made my own way out of the aircraft.

Once inside the terminal I sent a message asking him to let me know if he was alright. Instantly I was shown a picture of him flying happy and carefree loops in full celebration of his freedom on this beautiful autumn day.

I thanked him and headed along the signs to catch my connecting flight. There had been a change of gate which appeared to have caused a bit of confusion. People were walking in all kinds of directions, even turning around and going back.

With my mind still on Freddie and his fate, I didn’t give it too much attention. I just thought, perhaps they were not going to San Francisco. Perhaps not everyone was as lucky as me…

I made my way to the ladies to freshen up some and see what I could do to get rid of any metal in order to stop that security check machine bleeping at me all the time. It took quite a while, but I was nevertheless very surprised to be greeted by a security guard when I re-emerged.

‘Good morning, madam…’ he said. ‘You have been in the rest room too long…’

I raised my eyebrows. I hadn’t flown in a good while, but it never occurred to me that time in there might be rationed these days.

‘We have closed off the area, as there is a bomb threat.’

My eyebrows went up even further and I must have displayed some alarm.

‘I haven’t got one… !’ I was going to say, but thankfully he interrupted me, saying, ‘You can calm down, it’s not the first one…(he seemed to think that that was more reassuring…)

‘It probably isn’t a bomb at all…,‘ he continued. ‘I think it just looks like one.’

By that time I was hooked on this wonderfully surreal conversation, and when he said it would take only a few minutes for them to clear the area, after which I could proceed through the security check, I was quite happy to stick around. Who knows what else he would come up with.

But, no, that was it. After a little while he directed me to the other side of the mezzanine floor where I would find people checking my documents, my person and everything else they could think of in the spur of the moment and depending on how much entertainment they required.

I walked around the circle to get where he indicated. It looked like the event had cleared everyone from the vicinity – I was the only passenger going through, as if I was royalty or some kind of a VIP getting whole areas cordoned off for their comfort.

I had walked the full length of one loop towards the gate, which seemed a little pointless with no one else there, when a member of the security staff came darting out and lifted the restrictive barrier, opening up the straight route for me. ‘Here you go, madam,’ he said. ‘Just come through here….’

I wheeled my case most elegantly across the precious tile floor, my royalty now fully confirmed.

And just at that moment, a joyful little fly came popping into my mind again.

Darting around inside my heart, he cheekily commented. ‘Loops are not to everyone’s delight… but that goes without saying, if you have to walk them, right?’

Yes, Freddie, it sure does…

Bless you, little buddy, wherever you are.

Freddie and myself flying ‘Star Alliance’…

I Know These Are Not Cats 1.Butterfly Perfection

It seems that once you open yourself up to experiencing other species in your life the floodgates are open, never to slam shut again ever. I for one was very surprised to find that, after living with my cats for a while, I began to have a better connection to dogs as well.

For some reason though, I always got misunderstood when I’d say things like: “Ever since I have been living with cats I like dogs more…” and I would have to add a hasty ‘…as well!’ just to keep it clear that I wasn’t going to give up the fun of being crazy cat lady just yet, much as they would like me to.

But here we go, another example of what you can get into. I blame J. Allen Boone and his book Kinship With All Life, which tells the story of his communication with animals, one a stunning German shepherd called Strongheart and the other Freddie the Fly, to mention only a couple. You have to read it to understand the enchanted world of his connection to all beings. I recommend it heartily 🙂

One of the things that happens when  you live with cats is that you get confronted with their hunting instincts, which can be very challenging because it goes right down to the bones of what you think – really think – about life and death, and how much you are prepared to walk your talk.

For a long while I had been trying to change my awareness of the qualities of life, the fact that it is eternal and indestructible, and that death is an illusion, or rather, to be quite frank, merely a nasty habit that we have been taught and would do well to let go of presto.

In this limited third dimensional experience, my cats ever so often give me a chance to learn lessons about these great aspects of life. This time it was Bubu’s turn again, my master teacher, who was currently bouncing around in the summer sunshine. I noticed she got hold of something, proudly carrying the trophy  in her mouth.

I went over to check because I wanted to make sure it wasn’t a bumblebee, and to see to it that they both were safe, but it was actually a butterfly. Not a glorious peacock, admiral or tortoiseshell, but instead a little brown one with pretty white dots.

I picked it off Bubu but it looked quite dead. Still, my hands were feeling the energy running, and I kept asking for whatever was needed to be given through me.

It didn’t take too long for the wee thing to stir. The shock must have been enormous, so I just kept sending healing into the fragile form. I felt encouraged when he began to move a bit more. Walking around the edge of the house I came to a buddleia that I had planted especially owing to the fact that butterflies love them. I sat him on the gorgeous dark purple flowers but he didn’t manage to stay on it and tunbled to the ground. Picking him up, I decided to let him sit on my hand until after a while he flew off.

There were bits missing from the ends of the wings at his back though, and I watched with dismay as he spiralled down to the ground. I picked him up again, and noticed with delight his  eagerness to climb onto my hand.

We repeated the same procedure as before, and when the spiralling to the ground was completed, I again bent down to pick him up. I explained that there was a chunk of wing missing from the back now and that it would feel very different to fly from before, perhaps he would even have to learn anew how to do that.

Again he threw himself off my hand and again climbed back onto them when I bent down to pick him back up after another spiral. He almost appeared to be holding on to my finger when I lifted him this time.

Once more he flew off, but this time he flew longer, and then landed among a few logs that had been left there after being cut. I looked around to find him, but somehow that felt wrong. I had a strong sense that our little time together had fulfilled its purpose and that now I should let go.

I looked towards the ground, around the logs but couldn’t see him anywhere. Slowly I drew the reiki protection sign a few times in he air over the area where I had seem him land. Then, with another blessing for his courage and his trust in my giant hand, I left to go back into the house where Bubu Master Teacher was waiting with the next lesson.

* * *

The following morning I was busy again, running through the house doing this and that, making beds, cleaning washing, the usual…

At some point I was passing through the little hallway between the guest kitchen and my own, when I noticed a butterfly sitting on the window inside. I had already reached my kitchen, but turned back to have a better look.

It was the same kind as the one I saved from Bubu Tiger the day before. For some reason I felt I should go get my camera and because the butterfly was sitting quite high up on the window I then decided to get my ladder as well. Thankfully enough, it was right close, leaning against the wall because I was still in the process of psyching myself up to change the light bulb in the porch light (major undertaking…).

I positioned the ladder carefully so as not to scare him away. Then I climbed up to try and get a picture. With the light coming in from the window though, that turned out to be rather difficult. Eventually I got a couple of photographs, but nothing breathtaking really. By the third shot I was balancing with one foot on the ladder and the other on the narrow window sill, while the ladder was getting decidedly wobbly.

Many years ago when I used to work on building sites I picked up a really useful tip about when to call it quits… round about the time the ladder starts shaking. True to that ancient wisdom, I did another quick but careful click and came back down.

At exactly that point a thought suddenly appeared about the actual situation from the butterfly’s point of view: Butterfly – window – flutter-flutter… ah… perhaps this wee thing is trying to get out and doesn’t get it that in our reality there is no way through that window unless you get a human to open it for you. That bit only works though, if the window is not painted shut, which this one was.

I went to put down the camera and then reached to pick him up, remembering to send reiki while he was sitting in the dark cave of my palms as I made my way through the door. Once outside, I opened my hands and held them flat so he could fly off.

But he didn’t. Instead he just sat there, facing me, as if he was studying me. I looked down at him, puzzling, and suddenly it hit me: how perfect this being was. There was not a mark, not a line, not a hair or piece of fluff that wasn’t where it belonged.

I am by no means a butterfly specialist, and if it’s not one of the glamorous three mentioned above I have to look them up, but this little creature had perfection written all over it. The only other being I had ever felt like this about was my most perfectest little black cat Pheop (‘Feep’).

… every bit of fluff was where it belonged…

I felt tears welling up at what I could only call eternal beauty before me, and the reiki was bursting out through my hands, while he was sitting patiently, waiting for me to catch my breath and get all the information he was transmitting.

I didn’t know if that was the butterfly from the day before restored to its real self or not, but that didn’t seem to be the point anyway, because right then another realisation came: This was to show me the truth about the one from the day before. It was like the group soul had visited to give me the message that all was well, not just with the butterfly, but also with humanity in our time of transition.

We have been created in perfection and all we really need to do is find – remember – that truth and that awareness within ourselves and each other.

Perfection in eternal beauty