Animal Healing

October 2004

When I was a kid I wanted a big furry dog. I wanted a dog who could greet me at eye level even when all four paws were squarely on the ground; one who would protect me from bullies and be my play companion. The dog could be either sex or any color as long as it was big. The main problem with this was my father, who was terrified of dogs. A dog had bitten him when he was little and although he never admitted he was ever afraid of anything, the whole family knew he was afraid of dogs. So when it came time to bringing a dog into our home, my parents got me Fluffy, a Shih Tzu. Not quite what I had in mind, but she was mine and I loved her.

Fast forward to adulthood. I still wanted my big dog. My husband and I moved to the Puget Sound area 14 years ago and after six months we bought our first home. With it came the freedom to get our first dog, Alex. Alex was an incredibly sweet Bernese Mountain Dog puppy. He had big paws and a big heart and he was going to be my big dog. However, a strange thing happens when you try to fulfill a childhood want in an adult body. Some things are undeniably different. In this case, I was physically much taller. Although I had now gotten a puppy that would have seemed quite large by most people’s standards, in reality he only grew to be 74 pounds and didn’t even match up to my hip level. Wonderful as Alex was, he would never be able to lick in my face from a standing position.

Our second dog, Zoe, was an Australian Shepherd. She was huge in spirit, but compact in stature. It was clear that fulfilling this childhood desire was going to take finding my own version of Clifford the big red dog. Since I was bigger, I was going to need to find a truly giant dog. That’s when the words first tumbled out of my mouth, “We are going to get a Great Dane”. A Great Dane: A perfectly huge creature who would meet me at the door and engulf me its colossalness. So off I went in search of a Great Dane.

Many of my clients consult with me regarding the best way to pick a new member of their animal family. Everything I’d ever said in this regard was thrown out the window when I saw Jadzia. She was a 12-week-old Great Dane. She was a stunning display of white and silver with small patches and dots of sleek black fur. She had soft floppy ears that bounced against her head when she moved, reminding me of a little girl with pigtails. She was nothing less than adorable. With the enthusiasm only a younger portion of my mind could muster, I called her to come over to me. This young part of me was so enthralled with the idea I was actually going to get this giant puppy that I was able to look right past the fact this puppy wasn’t particularly interested in giving me the time of day. That was okay. I would take her home and we would bond and all would be right in the world.

I brought her home and got all sorts of Great Dane things. Giant toys, giant beds, giant everything for my giant dog. There was only one problem. She didn’t think she was mine. No, she had picked my husband to be her person. I was barely an afterthought for her. But give me a challenge and I’m up for it. I was not going to lose out having this new being adore me too.

So, I signed us up for obedience class in hopes it would help her to see me as a more significant being in her world. Since I believe training needs to be done with the whole family, I brought the both Jadzia and my husband to class with me. Of course, whatever he asked Jadzia to do she did without hesitation. Whatever I asked was completely ignored. Even though I practiced the lessons with her daily and was incredibly consistent with my interactions with her, she didn’t care. There was a magic circle around Jadzia and my husband and I was not to be included in it.

I don’t blame my husband for this. It’s hard not to enjoy the affections of such a magnificent animal but, after all, this was my childhood fantasy we were talking about here, not his. No, I was still going to find a way to get Jadzia to look at me with those “I love you best” eyes. So, out the window went much of what I knew about dog training. I needed to go for broke.

I decided I would let this monster puppy sleep up on the bed. I rationalized that she didn’t have a lot of meat on her bones and loved to snuggle in the covers to keep warm. She was soft and warm and made the bed toasty. A little too late it occurred to me we had another problem. Jadzia was a Great Dane puppy, which meant one day she would grow up to be, well, a Great Dane. Lo and behold, that’s exactly what happened. Now this immense dog, who still had little interest in being my “big dog”, was quite happy to sleep diagonally on the queen sized bed. In fact, she had taken to jumping in bed day or night to doze on her Serta mattress, wrapped in her organic cotton sheets! For a year my husband kept saying he thought it was a bad idea to let Jadzia sleep on the bed. No one, besides the dog, was getting any rest. I had to agree.

Okay, since I was the leader here, I could make the rules. The new rule was: “NO DOGS ON THE BED.” This worked for my husband and me, but Jadzia had other ideas. As we got ready for bed that first night, Jadzia had already made herself comfy in the center of the mattress. I led her off the bed and told her to lie down on the ground. We turned off the light savoring the prospect of a good night’s rest.

A few minutes later, without a sound, something was moving at the foot of the bed. Jadzia had gotten her nose under the covers and like a snake was slowly slithering her body up the center of the mattress. Clearly she thought nobody would notice a Great Dane in the bed. As soon as her head got up to our level she rolled on her side and shoved my husband and I off to the far edges of the mattress. I screamed, “Jadzia, get off the bed!” She leaped up, taking the covers with her, hoping to escape whatever invader this human was yelling at.

This was just the first of many nights of Jadzia trying to figure out how to regain her preferred sleeping arrangement. There were the times when she broke out of the crate we had her sleep in at night, or the numerous times when she stayed on the floor but chewed any of my clothes she could get her teeth on. Needless to say, she never destroyed a single item belonging to my husband.

I just needed to accept what had become of my childhood dream. Jadzia was pretty much an immediate gratification girl who excelled at being large, ignoring me and being entranced by my husband. She just wasn’t interested in playing the role of my “big dog.”

Sadly, Jadzia had a short two-year life. However, she taught me something very important during her lifetime. Jadzia taught me that some childhood fantasies are best left in the past in order for us to be open to what is available in the present. I try very hard to practice this lesson to this day. Still, sometimes on chilly winter nights, I miss that radiator with a heartbeat under my covers.

If you have a question you would like to see addressed in an article, please send it to Polly Klein at paws@tonglenhealingarts.com

© Polly Klein 2004
Tonglen Healing Arts for Animals
Animal Communicator, Reiki Master,Teacher, Certified Animal CranioSacral Therapist, Small Animal Massage Practitioner
Website: www.tonglenhealingarts.com
Email: paws@tonglenhealingarts.com

September 2004

Last winter I attended a horse clinic on cow sorting with my horse, Arrow. I was going to this clinic with my new horse trainer and had hoped it would be fun all around. Cow sorting amounts to moving a group of cows one at a time, out of one pen and into another. While this is a practical thing to know if you actually work cattle for a living, I just wanted to try something new with my horse. I was told Arrow had worked cows before I owned him. For those of you who are not horse people, let me explain that you get told a lot of things about a horse when you are looking to buy it. However, if you haven’t seen it with your own eyes, all of this information needs to taken with a grain of salt.

On the day of the clinic, I unloaded Arrow from the trailer, tacked him up and rode over to the arena where the teacher was talking. The arena was filled with other horses and riders. Some of the horses were standing quietly, while some were leaning over and nibbling on the horses adjacent to them. Others were quite squirmy, dancing around in place or being ridden in small circles by their riders to work off the excess energy. Too many unfamiliar horses doing all sorts of different behaviors around me made me feel very on edge. I tried to focus on what the teacher was saying, but I just couldn’t settle down. I had taken a big fall off of Arrow several months before when I was in the company of other horses and the fear of being hurt again was just too strong for me to ignore.

My trainer was helping me overcome this fear and I utilized one of her suggestions. I tried to distract myself by focusing on Arrow and asking him to back up and move around a little, but he just didn’t want to listen. He was as stiff as I was. After standing there for a moment, Arrow asked me, “What are we afraid of?”

At first I thought this was an odd question. “What are WE afraid of?” Then I began to understand what was happening. Arrow wasn’t afraid of the other horses. He wasn’t worried about the situation at all until I began to worry. Arrow had picked up on my fear, both physically in my body and mentally from my thoughts. Only then did Arrow come to believe there might be something to be concerned about, even if he couldn’t see what it was. I had created the very situation I had wanted to avoid. Instead of having a fun and engaging time at the clinic, here I was setting up a scene where Arrow and I were both afraid, which wasn’t safe for either of us.

I turned to my trainer and explained I was having a meltdown and needed help. She immediately took Arrow and me out of the big arena and made us work together in a smaller arena without other horses around. As she gave me instructions on where to turn Arrow and what speed we should be going, she said, “Polly, you just forgot that you and your horse know how to ride together.” Giving me the break to get away from the situation and regroup allowed me to become present to the situation. My body got softer. Arrow’s body got softer and I was genuinely able to communicate to Arrow that things were okay again.

We returned to the clinic as a team. We nestled in between the other horses and Arrow stood calmly, with his neck softly outstretched while I listened to the teacher. When it came time to go into the pen with the cows to sort them, we had a blast. Apparently what I had been told about Arrow’s past cow experience had been true, as he locked right onto the cow I pointed his nose at and determinedly drove it around the pen.

I share this story because it illustrates something I see over and over again in my practice. Our animals are very tuned in to us, even when we aren’t as tuned in to them. They are very good at rising to our expectations and mirroring our own emotional states. I once was speaking to a husband and wife who were talking about their cat. They were going away on vacation and their house sitter and her young daughter would be staying in this couple’s home. The wife was really worried. She told me her cat was very nervous around children and always ran in fear. Her husband then said he didn’t understand what his wife was talking about, because he had been with the cat before when children were around and the cat allowed the children to pet her and pick her up. I asked the couple if there had been a time when they had both been present when their cat was around children and they said no. They didn’t have children of their own and it was a pretty rare occurrence to have children in their home.

When I talked with their cat, the cat told me when she was with the woman she picked up mental images of the cat running and looking afraid around children, so that’s why she thought there must be something to fear. However, when the man was there she felt no tension about being near the children and felt comfortable allowing them to come near her.

There are certainly additional factors that can play into why an animal reacts the way it does in a given situation besides our thoughts and expectations, but I am a firm believer that if nothing else, we contribute to the intensity of behaviors with the expectations and thoughts we send to our animals. When an unwanted behavior presents itself, we need to consider the possibility that we are adding some stress to the situation with our thoughts. Then we can consciously think of a new, more positive scenario for our animals.

Another client, Liz, told me she was having a problem with her horse, Twinkle. Whenever Twinkle needed to have her feet trimmed, she pitched a fit with the farrier. There had been a bad farrier experience in the past that first created this situation, but now, years later, it was still playing itself out. Liz had found one farrier who was able to work extremely gingerly with Twinkle and this allowed for the horse’s hooves to be trimmed. Now that farrier wasn’t available and Liz didn’t know what to do.

Liz told me there was another farrier who she brought her other horses to at the barn where she trained, so I suggested she try an experiment. I asked if Liz was focused on the horse she was riding when she took lessons from her trainer. She said she was. I suggested she bring Twinkle with her to the barn on a day when she was going to have a lesson with another horse. I told Liz to set up the farrier appointment at the same time as her lesson. I suggested she leave Twinkle in a stall and show a mental picture to Twinkle of the new farrier taking her out of the stall and trimming her feet peacefully. I told Liz she should go off to her lesson and not be there during the trimming.

A few days later Liz phoned to tell me she had tried the experiment. Not wanting to leave Twinkle completely alone, she told another boarder at the barn to keep on eye on the horse and if there was a problem, to let the farrier know Twinkle was very sensitive in her front feet when being trimmed. When Liz came back from her lesson, there was Twinkle with four new shoes on. The boarder told Liz she had been busy during most of the time the farrier was working with Twinkle and by the time she had thought to warn the farrier about the potential problem, the farrier had already completed the work on Twinkle’s front feet. Liz was ecstatic. She hadn’t realized how long she had kept the expectation alive that Twinkle had a problem. Without Liz to remind her of the problem and with the reinforcement of the new mental image that the trimming was going to go smoothly, Twinkle did great!

The next time you are facing a problem situation with your animal, take a moment to consider what kind of pictures and expectations you might be sending to them. Simply changing your expectations and showing a new possibility to your animal might just solve the problem.

If you have a question you would like to see addressed in an article, please send it to Polly Klein at paws@tonglenhealingarts.com

© Polly Klein 2004
Tonglen Healing Arts for Animals
Animal Communicator, Reiki Master,Teacher, Certified Animal CranioSacral Therapist, Small Animal Massage Practitioner
Website: www.tonglenhealingarts.com
Email: paws@tonglenhealingarts.com

August 2004

The other day I was talking with a friend when he posed a question to me. “Polly, how do you know when it’s time to let an animal go?” This was a timely question for him as he and his wife are faced with this decision for one of their dogs, a blonde Aussie mix named Tess, in the near future.

How do we know when it is time to say goodbye, time to assist in our animal companion’s transition out of their body? The simple answer, of course, is when they are suffering and have no chance of getting better. At that point it is clear to most of us that we can help them out of their anguish without a sense of guilt. Two weeks ago I found a baby rabbit who had been attacked by another animal and had escaped. Unfortunately, the tiny bunny had lost large sections of its skin in the process and was clearly in excruciating pain. It was a no brainer that the kindest thing I could do was to take the rabbit to the vet to be euthanized. It was suffering, it was extremely young and didn’t stand a chance of recovery. The only thing that awaited it was a painful and prolonged death.

However, many of us are faced with end of life decisions with our animals that aren’t as clear-cut. In the case of the friend who asked this question, his dog Tess isn’t in tremendous physical pain, but has slowly become increasingly paralyzed over the past three years. As a matter of fact, when I first met Tess she was spending part of her day in a dog wheel chair and part of her day loose, happily dragging her rear limbs behind her around the farm where they live. She wasn’t depressed. She wasn’t suffering. She was happy. What impressed me most about her was she wasn’t focused on what she couldn’t do, but seemed quite content with what she was still capable of doing with her body.

Some people might have judged the situation from a different perspective and concluded that Tess didn’t have a good quality of life because she couldn’t move as independently as she once did and would have thought euthanasia should have happened long ago. For Tess, she was having a wonderful life even though it was more limited in recent years. Yet, for another animal in the same situation, things might be completely different. If they are depressed by their physical limitations and not enjoying the life they have, then perhaps assisting them to let go of their body earlier might be the best choice.

Sometimes animals simply are aging and their bodies are wearing out. Figuring out when the best time is to help them let go is often much more difficult of a decision in this case. When talking with many of my animal clients who are dying, the majority of them understand that things die and most understand they are dying. One thing I’ve heard repeatedly is they don’t feel the need to stay in their bodies to the bitter end when their bodies hurt and don’t work right. In the wild, when an animal is fatally injured they often go into shock while they are dying and lose touch with what is happening to their bodies. As a result they are generally suffering for a relatively short period of time. With the advent of all the veterinary treatments and testing and medications that are now available to our companion animals, we have certainly saved many lives, but we have also developed the ability to sustain lives of suffering, often for our emotional needs and not for the desires or well being of our animals.

So when is it time to let them go? This is always an individual choice based on each unique set of circumstances and the animal’s wishes. I have several questions I ask myself when faced with such decisions.

1. Would I want to live in the condition I am asking my animal to live in?
2. Would I want the type of medical intervention necessary to sustain my life in this condition?
3. Is my animal still enjoying its life the majority of the time?
4. Could my animal be holding on just because I haven’t been ready to let them go and could they are trying to survive mainly for my needs?

After I’ve answered these questions for myself, then I am ready to ask my animal what it thinks. Ultimately, their response is my deciding factor. I can then go to my animal with an open heart and tell them I’m going to be sad and really miss them if they need to let go of their body, but I also let them know I don’t want to hold them in a life they don’t want anymore. If my animal then says they are ready to leave, I feel comfortable about helping them let go of their body.

As I finish writing this article I’ve learned that Tess and her people have made the choice that she is now ready to let go. I dedicate this article to her amazing spirit. She will be missed.

If you have a question you would like to see addressed in an article, please send it to Polly Klein at paws@tonglenhealingarts.com

© Polly Klein 2004
Tonglen Healing Arts for Animals
Animal Communicator, Reiki Master,Teacher, Certified Animal CranioSacral Therapist, Small Animal Massage Practitioner
Website: www.tonglenhealingarts.com
Email: paws@tonglenhealingarts.com

June 2004

I remember the first time I ever heard the phrase animal communicator. This was years before I started working in the field. A friend of mine shared a story about a dog she had borrowed to bring to her Sunday School class. After attending class, the dog’s owner consulted with an animal communicator and learned that the dog was concerned about a particular young girl he had sat with at Sunday School. He wasn’t sure exactly what the problem was but knew something was wrong. The girl, it later turned out, was being abused. While I was touched by this story, another thought popped into my mind. I never wanted to go to an animal communicator because the only things my dogs would say are my house is a mess and I tell them to shut up all the time.

Over the years I’ve been doing this work, this is a concern I often hear from people when I tell them what I do. Essentially, they think I must hear from the animals all the dirty little secrets that happen in people’s homes. I can understand why we might be worried about this. Who sees us at our worst more than our animals? They hear us gossiping and they see us eating those four brownies at midnight. They know when we are stressed out and sad or angry. They know when we put on a public face to mask our true feelings. My animals have enough goods on me to blackmail me for an eternity. Why would any of us want to have their secrets revealed to an animal communicator? Because, simply, that’s not how it works.

First, many of the things we think are bad or unsightly about ourselves are subjective; it only feels that way to us from our own perspective. I might feel guilty downing the sugar-laden brownies in the middle of the night, but my animals don’t see this as an offense. From their point of view, there would be no reason to share such trivial information. My own dogs, who are relentless food hounds, would probably see this as quite a good trick to be able to eat at all hours of the day and night. Then again, I have never spoken with an animal that was as focused on its weight as a lot of us humans.

Second, animals are very forgiving. If we are stressed out and snap at them because they do something that bothers us, once they see things have calmed down and are back to normal they (unlike many of their human counterparts) can let things go. I have yet to talk with an animal that has been obsessing for weeks over something obnoxious someone said to them in the heat of stress. Instead, they focus on what they like, what feels safe, and how connected they feel to their people. If there is a healthy relationship in place then a minor incident here and there just doesn’t faze them, especially if it is explained to them. I had a dog client who told me her person was sad all the time and this made the dog worried because it didn’t know how to help. I turned to the dog’s person and asked about this. The woman explained that her father had been very sick and had recently died and since then she had been crying at some point every day. The dog did not tell me that her person cried all the time, the dog told me about being concerned that her person was sad and not being able to help. This story shows that even when things don’t feel normal in their household, animals don’t say things like, “Wow, what a head case I live with. She walks around crying all the time.”

Our animals are very loyal to us and they clearly have an understanding of what’s private and what’s public. I have certainly spoken with animals who wouldn’t talk about a topic, saying it was something meant just for them and their people. This doesn’t mean that just because something is private, it’s bad. I remember talking with a woman and her dog a few years ago. She told me her husband traveled once a month and she wondered what her dog thought about that. I asked the dog, who showed it was gleefully happy when the husband was gone. I asked the dog if he liked the man, expecting there was something negative going on between the two and it was a nice break to have the man gone. The dog told me he loved this man and showed me an image of playing outside with a ball and going for runs. I asked why was he so happy when the man left. The dog immediately changed tone with me and said, “That’s our secret, not for you.” I turned back to the woman and explained what the dog had said. A big smile came across her face and she said, “That’s right, we do have a little secret.” Apparently when her husband was around the dog was never allowed up on the bed, but the moment her husband left the woman let the dog up on the bed each night where they snuggled up together. Then, just before her husband came home she would wash the sheets to get rid of signs of dog hair and turn to her dog and say, “Now don’t let on you were up here.” This had been going on for over two years. I turned back to the dog and told him what the woman had shared with me and asked if that was the secret. He said yes, but I better not tell her husband. I agreed.

Sadly, there are times when upsetting or difficult things are happening to animals in their homes. Even at times like these, animals very rarely talk about these situations the way an outside observer might expect them to. I once worked with a cat who was spraying all around the house. A woman had shown up for her appointment with her 10-year-old daughter’s cat. The cat talked about being confused by the rules in the house and feeling overwhelmed with anxiety. The cat would not give any examples about the inconsistent rules. I asked if it ever felt safe in the house and it said no. Upon hearing this the mother said, “I’m surprised the cat didn’t talk about all the mean tricks my daughter plays on her. I try to stop her, but I wonder if that’s what the cat is so anxious about.” The cat didn’t talk about what the girl was doing to her because the cat thought it must have been confused about the rules. It’s world had become less predictable and it was anxious not knowing what was safe and what wasn’t. The cat was not blaming the little girl – it was just scared and confused.

So, don’t worry about your pet making your foibles look like something off of reality TV. Animals really don’t think that way. They are usually very forgiving of some of our little faults and unconcerned about others. Just ask them!

© Polly Klein 2004
Tonglen Healing Arts for Animals
Animal Communicator, Reiki Master,Teacher, Certified Animal CranioSacral Therapist, Small Animal Massage Practitioner
Website: www.tonglenhealingarts.com
Email: paws@tonglenhealingarts.com

April 2004

Many of my clients have concerns about bringing a new animal into their existing animal family. A recent experience in my own household demonstrates how challenging this process can be.

Dobby stood in the corner of the room, head low and a sullen look in his eyes. My happy, slobbering Newfoundland who, up until that moment had lived in a perpetual state of contentment, was now standing away from me barely making eye contact. The cause of this marked change in his behavior was none other than an eight-week-old Standard Poodle puppy named Jordie.

Before deciding to add a puppy to the mix I had talked with my two dogs, Nick and Dobby, to see if they had any concerns or if there was anything in particular they would like to see in a new family member. Nick, my current service dog, was eagerly looking towards retirement and was just happy to know I was looking for someone to start training to take over his job at some point in the future. But Dobby, now that was another story. Dobby couldn’t understand why I needed another puppy. At 2 1/2 years of age, Dobby had always been the puppy in our home from his perspective. As a matter of fact, I often called him by saying, “Where’s the puppy?” and he would come bounding over to me. Although Dobby was pretty much done growing physically, he really liked being thought of as the puppy and without an actual puppy around to compare himself to, he clearly viewed himself that way.

I explained to Dobby I needed another helper dog and I was hoping this puppy might be able to do that work for me when he grew up. I also knew how much Dobby loved playing with Nick so I also told him when Nick retired he would be available to play with Dobby all day long, instead of being out during the day working with me. Dobby wasn’t entirely convinced by either of these points, but agreed he would be willing to try it on one condition: I was not to call this new dog “the puppy.” That title needed to be reserved for Dobby. I could call the new dog the baby, the little dog, the new guy, anything but the puppy. I agreed.

On the day I brought Jordie home he was still small enough to fit in a cat carrier. I separated the two older dogs, concerned they might step on the puppy if I introduced them all at once. With Dobby looking on from the laundry room, I opened the cat carrier and scooped Jordie out, bringing him to Nick’s nose for a good sniff. Then I placed Jordie on the ground and Nick snuffled him from head to toe and promptly began playing with him. No problems there. Jordie and Nick hit it off right away, bobbing and gnawing on each other. I joked that Nick knew this was his ticket out of work and so he was thrilled to have Jordie on board.

Then I moved Nick out of the room, picked up Jordie and let Dobby lumber into the kitchen with us. In contrast to Dobby, Jordie was a study in bounding energy and forward propulsion. Everything was new and exciting and worthy of chewing on or at least peeing on. Ignoring the wriggling bundle in my other hand, Dobby immediately placed his head under my free hand to be petted. As I did this, I brought Jordie closer to Dobby. Dobby slumped to the floor and looked at Jordie unapprovingly. I explained again to Dobby why I had brought Jordie home. Then I placed Jordie on the floor. Jordie immediately ran over to Dobby, jumping at his face and barking. That was enough. Dobby got up and moved over to the kitchen gate, wanting to get away from this toothy fluff ball. I let Dobby out with Nick, hoping the next day would be slightly better between the two. It wasn’t. No matter how much extra attention I gave Dobby, he just wasn’t willing to give an inch to Jordie. Then, a few days later I made a monumental error.

All three dogs were in my living room. Nick and Jordie were playing. Dobby was watching from the corner of the room when I said it. Jordie rounded the backside of the couch out of sight and I said, “Where’s the puppy?” As soon as the words left my mouth I knew I had made a bad mistake. I looked over at Dobby, and he was crushed. Despite my best intentions not to do it, I had given up Dobby’s special name to this new dog, along with the feeling that went with it. There was no taking it back. The damage was done.

For the next two months, Dobby stayed across the room from me any time Jordie was around. He was a sad sight, with his naturally drooping eyelids and his head hanging as low to the ground as possible. I felt so sorry for him and I was also angry with myself for messing up my end of the deal.

I could have just let it go, hoping Dobby would get over it, but I knew there had to be a better way for Dobby to understand this new relationship. After two solid months of spending extra time with Dobby and making big fusses over him with no resulting change in his mood, I tried another tactic. I started explaining to Dobby about all the things I liked that Dobby could do, but Jordie was unable to do. I didn’t share the thought that Jordie would soon learn many of these behaviors or tasks; I just focused on the fact that Dobby was currently better and smarter in these areas. I explained to Dobby he was smarter because he wasn’t a puppy any more, and if he wanted he could even teach things to the less competent puppy. Dobby liked the idea of being better than Jordie at certain activities. I explained to Dobby if he were really the puppy, he wouldn’t be able to do a lot of the fun things he likes to do because he would have to be on a leash or in a crate for housebreaking. He remembered that time in his life and he agreed he liked things much better now.

Later that day I saw Dobby give one good playful bat in Jordie’s direction with his giant front paw. That was all the encouragement Jordie needed to leap over to Dobby and begin chewing on him. Dobby just stood there letting Jordie’s tiny jaws clamp down around his rear legs and tail. With his head held high, Dobby let this go on for a few minutes and then turned and gave a snarly growl. Jordie stopped chewing for a moment and backed off. Then as if nothing had happened, Jordie jumped back at Dobby and started chewing again. Dobby stood there panting quietly until Jordie got tired and let go. From there on out, their relationship was forever changed. Dobby took on the role of adult dog, allowing for play and demanding periods of rest. For his part, Jordie pushed playing relentlessly, but learned to back off when Dobby clearly had enough.

Though the relationship between Dobby and Jordie had not gone as I had hoped at the start, I was able to help Dobby see the situation from a new perspective. I made it clear what I loved in him and what made him unique. I also made sure to tell him where he fit into the family, what I thought he could do, and what I expected of him. With this new knowledge, Dobby had risen to the occasion and found his balance once again.

When faced with a similar situation, you don’t need to feel helpless that peace will never return to your household. With some talking and some reframing, you too can blend new animal members into your family.

© Polly Klein 2004
Tonglen Healing Arts for Animals
Animal Communicator, Reiki Master,Teacher, Certified Animal CranioSacral Therapist, Small Animal Massage Practitioner
Website: www.tonglenhealingarts.com
Email: paws@tonglenhealingarts.com

March 2004

Bobbin eyed me curiously out of the corner of her eye as she rested her body in her person’s lap. Devon had brought this sleek white and tan Jack Russell to see me because she wanted to bring Bobbin to work with her, but there was a problem that needed to be addressed before that could happen. “Polly, we need to tell her she can’t keep ignoring me when I call her.” I could hear the frustration in Devon’s voice as she spoke.

I asked Devon to give me an example of what Bobbin’s ignoring her looked like. “Oh, that’s easy. I call her and she doesn’t come. As a matter of fact, she just keeps on doing whatever she was doing and sometimes even runs off to do something new.” At this point Devon picked up Bobbin, held her at eye level and gave her a raised eyebrow glance before returning Bobbin to her lap.

Talking to Bobbin, I explained that Devon loved spending time with her and wanted to be able to take her to the place where Devon spent her daytime hours. Bobbin liked this idea of going off to Devon’s workplace. I then explained to Bobbin there was a problem stopping this from happening. I showed an image of a scene of Devon calling Bobbin to come and Bobbin staying where she was. I asked Bobbin if she understood that scene and asked if it was true for her. She said yes to both. I then explained how Devon wanted her to come over right away to Devon when she called. Bobbin didn’t have a clue what I was talking about. I explained that whenever Bobbin heard Devon call her to come she was to stop what she was doing and come right over. Again, Bobbin didn’t seem to understand what I meant. At this point I turned to Devon and said, “What sort of training have you done with Bobbin?”

“What do you mean?” asked Devon.

“Have you taught Bobbin what the command ‘Come’ means and have you shown her what you want her to do each time she hears it?”

Devon laughed and said, “She knows what I mean.”

“How? Did you do training with her?”

“Well, no. But she knows, she’s just ignoring me.”

“Devon,” I said, “you can dress me up as a brain surgeon, put me in the operating room, surround me with a great staff and top notch equipment, but if I never learned how to perform surgery, I won’t be able to do it.”

As Devon nodded in agreement, I asked her why she hadn’t taken Bobbin to a training class or gotten material to do some training on her own. She said she didn’t want to be mean to Bobbin and the idea of obedience training was just too harsh. After all, Devon just wanted to live peacefully with Bobbin, not be a bully.

None of us wants to be mean to our animals, but when we don’t teach them things, we are doing them a disservice and setting them up to be the focus of future frustration and resentment. I think one of the factors standing in the way of teaching our animals acceptable behavior is a negative perception many of us hold about training. With classes being referred to as “Obedience School” I can understand why people might shy away. We want to be loved by our animals, not feared by them. The word “obedience” conjures up thoughts of oppressive dictator methodology. I’ve heard clients say they love their dog’s personality too much and don’t want to change it with training. From this perspective, why would anyone want to train their dog?

I look at this issue from a different angle. I am not sure many of us need our animal’s unwavering obedience. However, I do think we all need to be able to function as a unit, a pack, a family. Families have rules. When the rules are fair, age appropriate, clearly explained (or in the case of our dogs, clearly taught) and consistent, following them allows the family to work cohesively.

For our canine companions, fair means we don’t want to set our dogs up to fail. For instance, I don’t offer a stuffed animal as a chew toy and then get mad when my dog destroys one of my favorite childhood stuffed animals. That’s not fair. They both look alike to the dog, don’t they?

Age appropriate rules mean I have very different expectations for a puppy than I do for an adult dog. Just like with human children, puppies have short attention spans and don’t have enough life experience to grasp how things work. They are still learning about their world. They need chances to try things many times, to make mistakes and to have successes. That’s the way they learn how their world works.

Puppies and dogs also need to be taught what we mean and what we expect of them. Their bodies need to learn what to do when they hear a word like “Come.” It’s not enough to talk with them about it. When learning new skills it is crucial to practice over and over again in a setting safe enough to make mistakes without real harm coming to them.

We can put all the above into play, but without the final piece, consistency, it’s really hard to pull it all together. Without consistency our dogs learn sometimes the world works one way with one person and then it works another way with another person. Sometimes it might even work different ways at different times with the same person. This creates a lot of confusion and can undermine the best attempts at education. Debbie was having trouble keeping her dog Toby off of her bed while she was away from the house. I asked Debbie if there were times when Toby was allowed on the bed and she said in the morning she always cuddled with Toby on the bed before starting the day. When I talked with Toby about staying off the bed he was confused because sometimes it was okay and other times it was wrong. That wasn’t consistent and didn’t make any sense to him.

I propose the idea that instead of going to “obedience school” we need to go to “family school.” Family school is a place where the entire family goes, not just one or two members of the family, to learn how to work together with our dogs. What’s the point in having a dog that understands one family member but is confused by others? This sets up everyone to have a poor living experience. Instead, I like to think of family school as a place where all the members, human and canine, go to learn how to set up good rules, to teach and practice these rules and to ensure that the rules are consistent from one member of the family to the next.

A few months after I met with Devon and Bobbin, I received a phone call from Devon. She had decided to take Bobbin off to training where they had each gained a better understanding of each other. Gone were the days of Devon feeling ignored and Bobbin being confused. Now the two are happily enjoying their days at the office together.

There are an abundance of positive teaching techniques out their for helping our dogs to learn. When we start this education process with them as young puppies, their personalities do not change but their behaviors do because they know what we are asking them and they know how to do it.

It’s great to be able to talk with an animal through telepathic communication, but it is unrealistic to expect to talk your animal into a behavior it has never learned how to do. I encourage all of you to gather up the family and go to school.

© Polly Klein 2003
Tonglen Healing Arts for Animals
Animal Communicator, Reiki Master,Teacher, Certified Animal CranioSacral Therapist, Small Animal Massage Practitioner
Website: www.tonglenhealingarts.com
Email: paws@tonglenhealingarts.com

February 2004

A little over three years ago, my dear Australian Shepherd Zoe was diagnosed with cancer of the spleen. After having her spleen removed, I considered many options for supporting her health. I had been told the type of cancer she had generally spread quickly throughout the body. Regardless of which vet I spoke to or what treatment was recommended, I was told Zoe would only survive 2 to 6 months. I was devastated. Zoe was not only a treasured member of the family, she was also my working service dog. I was planning to retire her in a few years because I thought I had time and was already looking for a new dog to train. All of the sudden I faced losing a family member and my working companion. It was awful.

Contrary to my worst fears, Zoe recovered from her surgery in no time flat but I was so upset I couldn’t think straight. I turned to Zoe’s primary veterinarian, Jackie Obando, and asked her what I should do now. She gave me the best advice anyone could have offered me. She said, “Take Zoe home and treat her like a dog. Let her play and do whatever she likes to do.”

Essentially, Jackie told me to treat Zoe like she was healthy and whole and not like she was sick and dying. I decided from that day forward to always hold the intent in my mind that Zoe was a whole being, not an injured being. That’s not to say I didn’t attend to Zoe’s health in other ways – I did. Although Zoe had always been on an extremely healthy diet and basic supplements, I now dove into tailoring a diet focused on strengthening her immune system. In addition, I stepped up the frequency of the Reiki and CranioSacral Therapy work I did with her. I also decided that any further medical treatment or testing should be based on Zoe’s well being and not on my emotional needs. If there was nothing more I could do to stop the spreading of the disease, then the testing would be for me and not for her and I knew that wasn’t right.

Because she had already given so many years of her life helping me, I decided to immediately retire her from working. I knew Zoe’s absolute favorite thing to do was to go out on the trail with my horse Arrow and me, so I made sure to take her out with me as often as possible. Whenever Zoe and I were on the trail, she would leap out in front of us to explore the tracks of other animals, then dart back to Arrow’s side to make sure we were OK, then shoot off again. All the while she had a big grin spread across her face with that wonderful pink tongue of hers waving about with each pant.

The other thing I began doing with Zoe was to make sure I took time with her each day to simply appreciate her. I would tell her I was glad she was with me for another day and how happy I was to share my life with her for as long as she was able. Now I’ve probably said things like that to my animals before, but I doubt I had ever been so conscious about what I meant when I was saying it. This time I knew I meant: Be it a day, a week, a month or longer, I am so happy to have you in my life.

There’s something you should know about Zoe. You couldn’t make Zoe do anything she didn’t want to do. Loyal as she was to me, if I forced an issue and said it’s my way or the highway, she would say, “See ya!” Things had to make sense to her and she had to decide what she was willing do to. I often thought Zoe would be alive until she simply decided it was time to leave her body. In the meanwhile, if she wasn’t interested in dying I wasn’t about to count her out. I also knew when Zoe decided she was ready to die nothing I did was going to make any difference and it would be a speedy process once she made up her mind. I understood that was Zoe’s way.

That was it. That was the whole plan. Feed her well, let her have fun and appreciate her.

So, we went on like this. Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. I continued to focus on treating Zoe as a healthy vibrant being and that’s exactly what she was. To everyone’s astonishment, a year later Zoe was doing great. I started joking she looked really good for a dead dog. Her blue eyes sparkled and she was just as radiant and tough as ever. Every day I sat with her and thanked her for being in my life for another day and let her know how loved and appreciated she was.

Slightly less than 2 years after the surgery to remove her spleen, Zoe suddenly stopped eating. The one thing I could always count on Zoe to do was eat. As a matter of fact, she once consumed nearly $100 in cash I had left on the couch. Now that Zoe had stopped eating, I knew something was dreadfully wrong. I figured the cancer had finally spread. I had x-rays taken of Zoe to check for masses in her lungs. Her lungs were clear and there was still no sign the deadly cancer had spread. However, another mass was detected in her pancreas.

Zoe was dead within two weeks. I asked the veterinarian who had diagnosed the pancreatic cancer if it had spread from her spleen and he said no; this was separate. It was just as I had thought. Zoe wasn’t ready to go until she was ready to go and then there was no stopping her.

I share this story with many of my clients who are also living with ailing animals. As important as it is to work with a veterinarian you trust, Zoe taught me no matter how compromised an animal’s body, the most important thing is to recognize their spirit is whole and to treat them that way until their last breath. I miss Zoe tremendously, but I don’t have a single regret about how I treated her during this last period of her life or whether there was more I should have done. I treated her just the way she would have wanted to be treated. I appreciated her and she, in turn, relished her retired days on the trail with Arrow and me. I feel grateful I was able to resist giving in to my fears and my need to hold on to her because that allowed me to experience all the joys she had to offer. Thank you Zoe.

© Polly Klein 2003
Tonglen Healing Arts for Animals
Animal Communicator, Reiki Master,Teacher, Certified Animal CranioSacral Therapist, Small Animal Massage Practitioner
Website: www.tonglenhealingarts.com
Email: paws@tonglenhealingarts.com

January 2004

Three and a half years ago I was shopping with my husband at our local home improvement store. I had my Australian Shepherd, Zoe, with me. My husband and I were completely engaged in finding a plug for the bathtub drain. All of the sudden my attention was drawn to a little girl with shiny brown hair being pushed in a shopping cart by her mother. As they passed our aisle I noticed the girl was bouncing up and down in the cart, reaching over in our direction and calling, “Hi Zoeeeeee!” I looked more closely at the mother and daughter to see if I recognized them, but they were strangers. As they moved out of sight I heard the mother say to the little girl, “Who were you talking to?” The girl said, “Zoe, the dog. She said hi to me.” The mother dismissed the comment, telling the girl that dogs don’t talk.

Looking down at Zoe, I asked her if she had been talking with that girl and she said that she had. It was all I could do not to run after the woman and girl and say, “Yes, that’s right! My dog was talking to you!” but I knew I would look like a nut, so we continued on with our shopping.

I think that’s how it works, this animal communication thing. At least this is how it’s been for me. We are open to animals’ thoughts and feelings until we get told enough times by family or society to ignore what we hear. Then we start to question if we really heard anything at all, and eventually we stop hearing what’s there.

The most common misconception people have about animal communication is that the ability to talk with animals is a mysterious gift only certain people have. I don’t believe this is true. I think anyone can communicate with animals. I believe this natural ability is one we can relearn to connect with. I say relearn because it is clear to me that as children, being less guarded and worried about what other people think, we often freely communicate with animals just as the above story demonstrates. It is only as we grow up and are told things such as, “Stop putting human emotions on the dog’s behavior” or “No, the cat is not telling you he hates the way Uncle Bob picks him up” that we stop trusting our senses. As a result, communication with our animals starts to diminish and sometimes goes away altogether.

However, I never underestimate the ability of animals to be great teachers for helping us to understand them. My best friend is a fairly mainstream, concrete type of person. I am sure if she didn’t know me, there is no way she would consider my talking to animals sane. She once told me she didn’t have a problem with the idea I talk with animals, but she did have a problem telling people she was friends with someone who talks with animals. Essentially, my wacky behavior was OK with her, but what would other people think of her if they knew a close friend of hers had a deep conversation with an owl last Tuesday?

When we moved into our current home, we inherited a pond, which truthfully was more of a mud puddle. I decided to fill the pond up with water to see if it had a leak or if it had simply not been filled up in a long time. As I filled the pond I noticed a bright orange goldfish emerging from the muck. Several days later, as I was approaching the pond I heard a voice say, “I’m George.” Looking around, I saw no one. Then I looked at the pond and wondered if it was the fish talking with me. I was in a bit of a rush so I didn’t investigate it any further.

Then a few days later, my best friend came to visit. She had been outside looking around the property and had come across the goldfish in the pond. When she came back inside the house she said, “I think we need to get some food for George.” I asked who George was and she said the fish. I said, “Oh, did I tell you about the fish before?” and she said no, she just thought he looked like a George. I then proceeded to tell her the story concluding with, “I guess that must be his name.” I watched my friend as she was alternately excited and completely flipped out by the situation. She said she didn’t talk to animals. I told her that apparently she did.

I use an analogy when I think about people’s ability to communicate with animals. I say it is like horseback riding. Some people come into this world and they are naturally comfortable with horses. They’ve never taken a lesson and they have perfect balance and ride beautifully. Other people don’t start off knowing much about riding, but they really like horses and they take a lot of lessons and get just as good as that natural rider. Still others are either afraid of horses or have absolutely no interest in them at all. We will never know if this last group were natural riders or could have at least learned to ride well enough, because they don’t want to try.

This is how I feel about animal communication. It comes naturally to some, can be learned by anyone open to the process, and will rarely happen for those who don’t want to try. I say rarely, because George gave us a great example of how animals will still try to communicate even with those not particularity open to them and sometimes they even get through.

So the next time you hear a child talking about their bunny having a tummy ache from eating the a new type of food, even if you don’t believe the facts, be receptive to the idea of listening to animals. Invite them to tell you what they hear and learn from the animals around them. Animals can be amazing teachers. It’s our job to listen to them and to take good notes.

© Polly Klein 2003
Tonglen Healing Arts for Animals
Animal Communicator, Reiki Master,Teacher, Certified Animal CranioSacral Therapist, Small Animal Massage Practitioner
Website: www.tonglenhealingarts.com
Email: paws@tonglenhealingarts.com