HEIDI, THE INFORMER

Heidi, the informer

I often say to Heidi, “I’ll pay you to keep an eye on Leia.”

Yesterday I was sitting at my kitchen table working.  Heidi and Leia were dozing in the family room.

I was doing visual checks regularly since Leia is still NOT to be trusted unsupervised for any length of time.  Often, I bring Leia up to the kitchen with me and close the gate, or I crate her. 

Occasionally I get so absorbed in what I am doing and forget that Leia is “at large.”

. . . and I got engrossed in a creative project in my kitchen. 

Suddenly, I felt a gentle nudge on my arm. It was Heidi. Her gaze was intense.

And as clearly as if someone were speaking to me, I silently heard her say, “Leia is doing something bad.”

I leaped out of my chair and went down to the family room to find Leia chewing on a Netflix DVD. The return mailer had already been ripped to smithereens. 

“Bad girl!” I said emphatically.

Her tail wags . . .

So, I guess I have to mail it back with the age-old phrase, “My dog chewed my homework (substitute DVD).”

So, it’s not the first time I’ve received telepathic messages from my animals. 

Over twenty years ago, I heard an animal communicator speak who was a protégé of Penelope Smith who is considered the “mother of interspecies communication.” I was intrigued.  I read Penelope’s book and discovered that another of her students was doing workshops locally. I signed up for the basic workshop.  Enter Anita Curtis of Gilbertsville, PA. 

Anita’s workshop was fun and revealing; I immediately signed up for level two the following weekend.  One of the biggest hurdles, for me, was trusting my intuition and what I received telepathically. I never knew if it was “real” or a self-imposed imaginary response. 

Because of my lack of self-confidence, I signed up several months later to repeat level two instead of the advanced workshop. When I walked in, Anita asked me, “Why are you here?”  I explained my lack of trust in what I receive and felt I needed more guided experiences.

As part of this particular level two workshop, we were given a photograph of a pet belonging to another participant along with a question to ask the animal.  My photograph depicted a Jack Russell terrier, and the owner’s question was, “Who would you like to spend more time with?”

We then dispersed and each of us found a quiet space where we could center ourselves and establish contact with the animal.  I immediately got a picture of blue jeans and brown shoes. I made a mental note and persisted, trying to gather more information.  I asked for a name. Nothing.  Just the image of blue jeans and brown shoes; I finally surmised that because the dog was small this was what he would “see” of the person.  Then our time was up, and we gathered as a group for sharing. Many of the participants were unsuccessful. I hung back, my insecurity and lack of trust in what I received made me feel a bit foolish.  Finally, it was my turn. I shared the image I’d received of blue jeans and brown shoes and the process of trying to get additional information. And before I could finish, the owner of the dog exclaimed, “That’s my brother! He always wears blue jeans and brown shoes, and my dog adores him!”  I was flabbergasted. Anita turned to me and quietly said, “And you think you’re not ready for the advanced class?” 

One of my teaching colleagues heard about my foray into animal communication, and she asked me to communicate with her cat Dakota to find out why she was refusing to use the litter box.  I decided to do the session over my lunch period and went into a supply closet where I wouldn’t be disturbed.  After going deep and connecting with Dakota, I was overcome with a strange feeling of being dizzy.  It was difficult to establish any two way connection, and the only thing I could get was that Dakota did not like the blue crystals in the litter.  When I shared this with the owner, her jaw dropped. She told me that Dakota was at the vet and recovering from anesthesia.  No wonder I experienced the sensation of being under the influence of drugs! Her owner purchased a different litter without the blue crystals, and Dakota returned to using her box faithfully.

One of the funniest and most unexpected incidences occurred while I was riding my beautiful mare Lark in a first level dressage test – each test is comprised of a series of movements. When a horse and rider consistently master the movements, they can then advance to the next level. This particular first level test included a serpentine done the entire length of the arena.  We had executed several movements and were in a trot, approaching the corner closest to the judge. As we entered the corner, I silently heard loud and clear, “Oh, now we do the wiggly worm!”. . . and I yelled silently, “NO! Not yet!” Lark relaxed and continued trotting forward, executing the rest of the test beautifully.  It was a struggle to contain my hysterical laughter and probably contributed to my own state of relaxation which set up a beautiful partnership throughout the test.  We won the class.

Lark

Obviously, many people are skeptical that this type of dialog can occur between human and animal.  I had to experience it myself, both as a telepathic receiver, and by using the services of an authentic communicator such as Anita Curtis. 

I love hearing what my animals have to say. 

. . . and I’ll continue to pay Heidi, the informer.