Pet Psychic and Animal Communication

This is a subject very dear to my heart because of all that I have learned and gained from my relationship with animals, especially cats. But as you will read, I have also learned about animal communication from dogs and horses, even a "yellow jacket"!

Many people look to the stars to discover that "we are not alone." I always have to laugh at the concept because we share this planet with hundreds of magnificent species whom we take entirely for granted; companions in the making if only we would open our minds and hearts.

They are the animals that share this planet with us. Why look to another galaxy for companionship, when it is right here in our own back yard? There is intelligent life here, and it isn't just us! Unfortunately, people often "just don't get it."

I volunteered with an animal rescue organization for 8 years and saw far too many times the horrendous things some people will do to their pets.

I was so moved by the sheer ignorance of many, and their misunderstanding, that I created a special mental self help program to help them come to realize the importance of their animal companions, the enormous benefit they were missing when they abuse or take an animal for granted, and help them enjoy the great love that an animal can give.

I call it Psychic Pet Control DSPP (digital subliminal perception program) (link at bottom of page). People who have used the program are always surprised by the results. They can't believe it. But I can, because I have lived it. I do admit, the title sound like an old "B" movie serial.

How I was able to do this came in part from what I learned about animal communication and being a budding pet psychic. I didn't learn it from the animal rescue organization. I learned much of it from a Master.

His name was Clyde.

He was a cat.

Read his story, and then judge for yourself if the idea of a pet psychic and animal communication is a "load of bunk".

There are great wonders in the world, if only we have the eyes to see them. Perhaps my story will open your eyes. If not, maybe it will give you a chuckle or two. Yet, the little time you spend reading my story may change your life.

I met Clyde when he was "in transition". He had been rescued by a friend of mine who was terribly allergic to cats. His previous human was going to give him to an animal shelter, and my friend didn't want to risk his not being adopted and possibly "put down". So, in her great generous heart, at no small risk to her own health, she took in Clyde, along with seven other cats, and struggled to find loving homes for them.

In Clyde's case, she found me. (She eventually found homes for all the other cats as well.)

I fell in love with Clyde the moment I saw him and I knew he was the cat for me. The only problem was -- my landlord would not let me have a cat.

I had rented an apartment that was the top floor and attic of a beautiful Victorian mansion; the landlord and his family lived on the first two floors. I had originally asked that I might be able to keep a cat when I moved in and the landlord had said "Perhaps, but probably not."

After meeting Clyde, I was determined to change that. I talked to the landlord who said he needed time to think about it. A few days later, he told me I could have a cat only if I agreed to a rent increase and to pay a month's rent extra as a security deposit.

To his surprise, I immediately said "Agreed" and I sent him his money.

A week later, Clyde came to live with me. He was just a baby, a true polydactyl (double paws on his front feet) tabby cat, and getting up and down the stairs was a bit of a challenge for him.

But he was a spunky little thing, and the most adorable kitten I had ever seen. So we settled in with only the occasional "thump, thump, thump" as Clyde tumbled down the soft-carpeted stairs after tripping over his own two feet.

The landlord eventually knocked on my door and asked about all the noise. His whole family was with him and I explained that Clyde sometimes had a little difficulty with the stairs but that he was unhurt.

They wanted to meet him, so they came in and saw baby Clyde sleeping in the big red chair. They instantly fell in love with him.

As they left, my landlord said, "I now understand why you were so insistent. I don't know much about cats, but I feel that Clyde is very special. It's very weird."

A month later I was balancing my checkbook and saw that the landlord had not cashed the check I had given him for Clyde. I called and asked about it.

There was a protracted silence, and then he said, "We are so very sorry. We really didn't want you to have a cat, so we tried to overcharge you, hoping the money would stop you. We never dreamed you'd agree. Now that we have met Clyde, we feel terrible about what we did. We tore up your check, and we will not raise your rent."

When I turned around, there was little Clyde staring at me, swaying back and forth, purring loudly. As I hung up the phone, I winked at him, "Nice going, Clyde! What can you do about my credit cards?"

Clyde got up and left the room.

Many years before I met Clyde, I had the opportunity of spending a month on a farm. I was on leave from military service and this was just the vacation I needed. The family I stayed with was very kind, and it was not a working farm, just a property for rent.

The man of the house was a logging trucker with a heart of gold and his wife was a nurse of great compassion. On this sort-of-farm, they had chickens, a horse named Graybo, and three cats; Alex, a big longhaired male tom tabby, another cat, female, whose name I can't remember, and Ditto, the unhappy little kitten.

Ditto was all white except for two smudges on the top of his head that looked like the "ditto" mark in punctuation (:). Ditto spent most of the day crying, and nothing we could do to comfort him seemed to help. You see, Ditto's mother was killed by a passing car before he was weaned, and he was in trauma.

Alex, the big tom, was an amazing fellow. Ditto, having no sense whatsoever, decided at first that Alex would make a great surrogate mom. So he tried to nurse on him. It is very much to Alex's credit that he allowed this, to the point of lying prone while Ditto desperately tried to suckle him. I've never seen a male cat do something like this before or since.

Of course, you can't get milk from a male, and though we bottle fed Ditto, he still needed a real mom. The female cat would have nothing to do with him, unfortunately.

Well, part of my "job" was to feed the animals. So I took care of the chickens, which were pretty useless. They never laid eggs that I knew of, and simply went around the yard cackling and pecking. They provided Ditto with some entertainment because one or two of them would chase him from time to time. One large hen caught up with him and sat on him – not a good idea because he squirmed to get free and I think he clawed her. She squawked loudly and stood up.

I said, "Congratulations, you've laid a cat!"

For some reason, I was supposed to feed the cats (Alex and the female) in the barn along with Graybo, the horse.

Graybo was a sweet horse; I believe she was a palomino, with tan coat and a long golden mane. She had the most enormous soulful brown eyes.

Well, one day, while trying to comfort the endlessly upset Ditto (who mewed more than any cat I know), I carried him into the barn while I fed the other cats and Graybo. I put Ditto down on a shelf next to Graybo's stall. He mewed a bit, somewhat confused and then spied Graybo. He stopped in mid-mew and it was love at first sight! The horse was exactly what he had been looking for!

Graybo took one look at me as if to say, "Oh, you've got to be kidding!"

Being polite, I said, "Graybo, this is Ditto. Ditto, this is Graybo."

No sooner were the words out of my mouth when Ditto scampered across the stall's top rail and climbed up Graybo's neck and locked himself with his claws onto her long mane on top of her head. Her mane was so long that he could not hurt her in the least, other than annoy her for being there, right between her ears!

She stood there; blinking for a moment, then simply went about eating her feed. She'd dip her head down; Ditto would mew but hang on. She'd bob her head up; Ditto would mew, and hang on. In a few moments, Graybo was resigned to the fact that she would probably spend the rest of her life with a cat on her head.

When I left, I tried to extricate Ditto from Graybo, but he was not giving up. And oddly, she snorted, as if to say, "Oh, just leave it!"

I went back to the farmhouse and told the family. They didn't believe me, so they came out to the barn.

There was Graybo standing with a cat on her head. The look on Graybo's face was a mixture of resignation and chagrin, and we all had to laugh. It was a curiously charming, if insanely bizarre sight.

By now, Ditto had fallen asleep. So I quietly and gently removed him.

Every day after that, Ditto would get to sit on Graybo's head at "dinner time." It seemed to calm him down.

It was coming time for my leave to end, and there was some difficulty with my orders. I was greatly concerned and was awaiting a decision by the military headquarters. It was on my mind and I went to the pasture gate just to clear my mind.

I stood by the fence musing the issue when I saw Graybo in the pasture come sauntering over to me. She had no reason to do so. But she came over and stood right next to me and bumped me with her head. I will never forget looking into her amazing, huge brown eyes. I hugged her, and I felt better.

It was as if she was comforting me. I moved down the fence a bit, she simply followed and nudged me again. I thought that was very curious, so I kept moving along the fence, followed by Graybo and a nudge. Then, quite suddenly, she sauntered off, switching her tail as if to say, "Don't worry about it."

The next day, I got a call from headquarters and everything had been straightened out.

I have no idea whatever happened to Graybo and Ditto, her hat. We lost touch after I went back into service. But I will never forget how these animals showed caring and concern for each other, and in Graybo's case, for me.

Clyde and I lived in the Victorian house for a few years, and then I got the opportunity to buy a home of my own. Okay, the bank bought it and let me live there.

Clyde had been an "indoor-outdoor" cat before I got him, and he always felt a bit trapped in the apartment. When I bought the house, I made sure it had a huge, safe yard where Clyde could go out. I trained him about this with a harness and a leash, and he was very smart. He never went near the busy street, but went from house to house among the neighbors by going through connecting yards.

The house has a driveway ending in a garage for the car. So the driveway is always empty.

One day, on a weekend, I had been in the house for some time, working on ClydeSight 2.0! the Fun and Games Cat Site (link at bottom of page). I decided to take a break and go outside for a little bit.

I went out and found the driveway was full of cats!

There was Clyde, sitting regally in front of the garage door. Scattered about on the driveway were all the neighbor's cats. Some were washing themselves, some were crouched down, and some were just sitting there. I have to admit, they were very quiet.

I was careful not to disturb them but went back inside, calling over my shoulder "Don't expect me to serve drinks!"

Clyde was rarely alone after that. He always had visitors come to call, and he picked up a companion I named Shadow. Shadow was a big street tough tom who apparently thought Clyde was the most wonderful thing he'd ever seen. Shadow would come by and mew at the door for Clyde to come out and play. I'd let Clyde out and off the two would trot, just like children do. Clyde in the lead, Shadow behind, hence his name.

One day when I was coming back from the store (I walked, it was nearby), I saw Clyde and his "court" as usual in the driveway. They were very quiet, but then I saw a new cat, a strange cat, very large, come slinking along the street. It was obvious that this cat meant to cause some trouble. I prepared myself to break things up, but something told me to bide my time and wait.

The large tom (I assume it was a tom) came slinking to the end of the driveway. By now it was obvious he was intent on picking a fight with Clyde. Clyde was a "cat of peace" and did not fight, so I was concerned how this would turn out.

The other cats all came to attention and started bristling their fur. There were the usual low growls and warnings. As the big tom tried to sneak close to Clyde, the others -- no kidding -- surrounded him!

There were several loud hisses, a few annoyed growls as if to say "Get out of here, you are not invited!"

It was a tense moment, and then the cats moved aside, providing an exit for the intruder. With a loud MEOW, he turned and ran off. I was amazed. Clyde had never moved an inch, and the other cats simply settled themselves down. In a moment, I began to hear purrs, so many that there was a purring chorus!

I went quietly into the house but called over my shoulder, "I'm still not serving drinks!"

Insects are animals, but obviously not mammals. However, they have a high degree of intelligence.

When I first moved into the house with Clyde, there was a lot of yard work we needed to do. Never mind the fact that every time I and a friend would dig a hole to plant something, Clyde would jump in!

It became a routine. Dig hole. Turn and pick up plant. Put plant down. Lift Clyde out of hole. Put Clyde down. Put plant in hole before Clyde gets back in.

One day, a rather annoying yellow jacket came by and simply would not leave. The insect landed on my friend's back, and he was furious. For some reason, I know not why, I said "Don't move, it's just curious. Let me talk to it."

"You're going to have a conversation with a bee?"

"Give me a second. It won't sting you, I promise. It just wants to know what we're doing!"

Keeping my distance, I simply focused on the concept I had that the insect was curious. I said, "I know you wonder what we are doing. We are planting flowers, that's all. There's nothing here for you. Bee, be gone!"

In a second, the yellow jacket took off and landed on a nearby windowsill. It actually perched there, watching us!

We finished out work; the yellow jacket never moved.

Later that afternoon, we decided to call it a day (yard work is exhausting) and as we packed up I said, "I told you, there's really nothing to see here."

The insect took off and flew away.

All that summer we worked in the yard. A "bee" would fly by occasionally, but we were never stung. Usually, all I had to do was say, "Bee, be gone!" and it would fly away.

By now, having lived for several years with Clyde, I sort of "knew" some of the animal ways. The big trick is to admire them but leave them alone.

One day, I went with a friend to visit her friend who I will call "Rosie".

Rosie was a grandmother and worked in animal rescue as well.

After introductions we all sat down in the living room for a chat. Rosie's family had a great big beautiful golden retriever.

No sooner had I sat down when she came over and sat sideways in front of me, leaning against my legs. I patted her and stroked her soft fur. She was leaning her weight against my legs.

Rosie looked at us and said "Oh, how sweet, she really likes you."

I said, "No, she doesn't. In fact, she doesn't trust me."

"How can you say that?"

"She's leaning hard against my legs. Don't you see? She's protecting you from me. If I try to move, I'll fall over her. She's putting herself in harm's way to protect you!"

"Nooo."

"Tell my about your daughter's first husband. He had a temper, didn't he? Did he ever hit her?"

"Damn right he did, the bastard!"

"And she had the dog then?"

"Yes..."

"I am the only male in the room. Don't you see, the dog is protecting you!"

Rosie stared at me for a moment, and then it dawned on her.

"Oh my gawd!"

"Yeah, you should thank the dog. She thinks of you and your family as her puppies and she is protecting you. Not that there is any risk, of course. If we eat something together, she'll relax. She's trembling right now, I can feel it."

Rosie got a cracker and fed it to me, clearly so the dog could see. She gave me a cracker and I fed it to her, clearly so the dog could see.

We both laughed, it seemed so strange.

Until the dog got up and went over to a corner and lay down, now satisfied that everything was safe.

It is possible to experience animal communication and be a pet psychic. It simply takes a little understanding and a way of releasing the psychic power we all have within us.

Psychic communication is the common language we all share, a language beyond words or barks or meows. It is the feelings we have and transmit to others. Animals know it; people know it but don't give it credit.

But more than our talking to them is their talking to us. They cannot speak in words, but they do speak in thought and movement, expression and feeling. All we have to do is quiet ourselves to get the impression of what they are "saying."

I am grateful that I have learned from the animals what I know of these techniques. I am sure there are others who know a great deal more.

But no matter what, I do know this.

When we honor and care for and about animals, we are open to amazing possibilities and beautiful experiences with "alien" life that is right in our own backyard.

And you don't need a spaceship for that!