Ready to adopt again?

dog & person silhouette Image by Barbara Jackson from Pixabay

As an animal communicator, I walk with people and their animal friends through a lot of endings and beginnings.

The pain of loss is real and raw. It deserves respect. At the same time, you are here on earth with much love to give. Plenty of animals need loving homes.

Only you know whether and when to welcome another animal into your home, but here is my perspective along with a couple of things to consider.

Years ago, I lost my much-loved Idgie, the sweet diva of a tiger cat who inspired my first forays into animal communication and Reiki. Idgie had been sick, and she and I had been saying our see-you-laters for months. Deep down, I knew other feline friends would succeed her. At some point.

Idgie in cat bed 2007 crop
Idgie, 1996-2012

When I came home from the vet clinic and faced an Idgie-less, cat-less house, the pain hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks. It was all I could do to survive in the moment, much less think about the future.

Not long afterward, I read about a horrific animal cruelty case in which fireworks were tied to a kitten’s tail. Something opened up within me, and I realized how much I wanted to give another kitty a home. And Idgie had trained me so well.

One afternoon, I sat on my back porch and took a few deep breaths. My partner and I planned to visit the city shelter the next day. It was only six weeks after Idgie’s passing — was it too soon?

I connected with Idgie in spirit and asked her to guide us to our next feline companion, whenever and wherever it would best happen. What I received was her classic ears-back expression and: “Right. Like I wouldn’t be involved in that decision.”

At the shelter, Kathy and I met several kittens, but none seemed especially interested in us. Then the volunteer brought out one who was about to go to a satellite adoption center. The four-month-old black tortie prowled around the adoption counselor’s office, trying to figure out where she was and why. Then she came and sniffed both of us, accepting the gentle pets we offered.

2012 Lucy on my desk chair crop
This is Lucy not long after we adopted her.

When I sensed the kitten was open to it, I gingerly picked her up. I commented on her distinctive coloring, notably the gold streak between her eyes that seemed to stop and resume on top of her head.

“Doesn’t it look like God came along with a paintbrush?” the volunteer said.

I held the kitten so that we were eye to eye. She reached out with one tiny black paw and patted my face.

We’d been chosen.

Did the joy of welcoming Lucy erase the hurt of losing Idgie? No. I still felt like crying every time I saw a tiger cat or a picture of one that reminded me of her. Lucy succeeded Idgie, but did not replace her. One being cannot truly replace another, and there’s no sidestepping grief if we are to love fully. While I continued to grieve for Idgie, my heart filled with gratitude for the love she had given me. That love enabled me to recognize the connection with Lucy, who needed a home as Idgie had.

The only thing I can imagine that’s worse than losing a pet is never having had that animal in my life. 

If you are struggling, or just wondering, here’s what I suggest:

  • Pay attention to your intuition. It’s hard to do this when you are in pain. But if you can, get quiet and ask yourself if it’s time to visit the animal shelter — or contact a rescue if you’re interested in a particular breed or type of animal. If you feel a lightness or sense of excitement and joy, that indicates a yes! If there’s a heavy, sad sensation, you might want to wait.
  • Adopt from a place of abundance, not lack. Another animal cannot truly replace the one you lost, or take away your pain. The last thing you want is to impose expectations on a new pet that are not about him or her at all. Stay with your grief long enough — however long that is — for your heart to open to a new and totally unique animal companion.
  • Remember the animal chooses, too. (Some animals would say they do all the choosing, but you get the idea.) My experience is that each dog, cat, bird, horse, human, or whoever comes into our lives for a reason. The animals probably have a better grasp of it than we do. When you meet a prospective new companion, pay attention to the way they respond and how you feel.

Whenever you and your next animal companion find each other, you are both signing on for a beautiful, painful, and totally worthwhile adventure. You both deserve no less.

(Image by Barbara Jackson from Pixabay)

 

 

What makes Let Animals Lead® different from ‘people’ Reiki

Relaxation helps the two-legged and four-legged alike feel and function better. That’s what Reiki, a Japanese stress relief modality, is all about. However, the method I practice, Let Animals Lead®, is different from what you’ll experience in human clinics and hospitals.

The hand positions I learned in my “people” Reiki classes don’t apply, and not because of different anatomies. It’s because animals are much more sensitive to physical space and presence. Touch is unnecessary, even invasive, for them. A person can feel energy from the practitioner’s hands, but a horse can feel energy from a person standing across a pasture. 

When I began studying Reiki years ago, I used the hand positions with my dog Ellie. If she had a hot spot on her foot, I lightly held her foot or placed my hand near it. More often than not, she’d get up and leave. I now understand that was too much for her. 

But when I sat quietly and meditated, and ditched any expectation about the “problem” or fixing it, Ellie was more likely to lie down nearby. (She was also more likely to quit licking that hot spot.) 

My teacher, Kathleen Prasad, had a similar experience with her dog. That’s how she developed the Let Animals Lead® method. The animal is free to get up and move around, fall asleep, or decline to participate.

Animals understand energy better than we do. A horse senses the presence of a predator in the distance. A cat curls up next to someone who is sick. The kids’ new puppy stays away from Mom because he’s the only one in the house who knows how angry she is. 

Just don’t ask that puppy to stay still for the practitioner. He doesn’t have to … and Mom is welcome to join in.

Veterinarian finds hope, healing on streets

Photo by Mart Production/Pexels

As the lead vet at a last-stop California animal shelter, Dr. Kwane Stewart dealt with waves of intakes and discouragement. It got to him.

That’s not uncommon among people who work with animals: You go in knowing you can’t save them all (though of course you want to). Then human stuff piles up … irresponsible pet ownership, abuse, neglect, bureaucracy, you name it — and you wonder if you can do anything at all.

Stewart began to stop and talk with the area’s homeless people who had pets, offering his services pro bono. Despite the initial mistrust — how did they know he wasn’t going to take their dogs or cats away? — he found renewed purpose. He details this journey in What it Takes to Save a Life: A Veterinarian’s Quest for Healing and Hope.

“Homeless people are loving, dedicated pet owners — which I hadn’t thought the case before I started my work,” he writes.

Another surprise was how well behaved the dogs were. In clinics, he’d seen his share of out-of-hand dogs whose humans insisted they had no time to train them. The dogs of the homeless did not pull at their leashes, bark or growl when Stewart approached, nor did they attack other dogs. These owners had nothing but time. They and their canine companions could read each other perfectly.

Stewart has also been inspired by those who weren’t homeless, but still pretty beaten down by the circumstances of their lives. One of these was Richard, a Vietnam veteran who lived in a trailer with his wife and several rescued animals. When Richard’s dog Courtney, a Corgi-hound mix, required a $3,000 surgery for bladder stones. Richard quickly agreed. Stewart asked if he was sure.

“Do what you’ve got to do. Period. … Courtney’s a member of the family. I ain’t rich now but I’ve been poor and I can and will be poor again if that’s what it takes. … That’s just something that when you become a responsible pet owner, that’s what you’ve got to do.”

Stewart put some info about Richard and Courtney on a GoFundMe page. He was stunned when $17,000 came in within a week. In what he calls one of his favorite details of all time, one of the donors was another pet owner he’d helped.

Another great detail: Stewart also works on TV and movie sets, making sure animal actors are safe and well. He overheard Brad Pitt bragging about how sweet, loyal and intuitive his own dog was. “If I closed my eyes, I could have been on Skid Row, listening to someone on the streets talking about what their dog meant to them.”

There is, of course, much more to this memoir. Stewart’s own history includes being bullied as a child, getting into fights well into adulthood, mental illness, a broken marriage, finding joy in fatherhood and navigating vet med as a Black man.

Stewart now leads the Project Street Vet nonprofit, which currently has teams in California, Florida and Atlanta.