Tag animal rescue

When animal suffering breaks your heart open

Nancy Crowe
This is one of sixteen malnourished, neglected horses taken from a northeast Indiana farm in 2018. (Photo courtesy Friends of Ferdinand)

Those of us who work with animals — vets, zoo employees, rescue volunteers and practitioners like me — often get asked how we can stand to see animals suffer. Doesn’t it break your heart? Wear you down? Make you hate people?

Sometimes, yes. That’s why we are more prone to compassion fatigue, burnout and even suicide. That is a reality.

So is the need for what we do. The need to create a healthier, kinder world for animals is so huge, in fact, that it takes all of us, whatever our line of work or temperament. Illnesses and injuries can happen even when we are doing our best as animal guardians and professionals. They can lead us into a confusing, agonizing array of questions and decisions. Animal cruelty and neglect, whether we come face to face with it or just hear about it, can leave us wondering about our world.

Several years ago, I worked with six of 16 horses rescued from a severe neglect case (photo above) in my area. When I walked into the barn on that cold morning, I saw emaciated bodies, tangled manes and what looked like untreated infections. All of the horses were in various states of confusion; one had all but checked out and stood vacantly in his stall.

You bet I felt sad. And angry. All the things. But I was there to listen to them and share meditation to help them relax and regroup. Having a way to help allowed me to engage in a way I could not have otherwise.

Besides, the six horses before me were more than their body condition scores or how their human had failed them. They had their own personalities, perspectives and hopes. One knew she would probably not survive and wanted no fuss about that. The mare in the stall next to her just wanted to be with friends. The vacant horse showed me an image of a dark room with a sliver of light peeking in. They didn’t need my pity. They needed to be heard and seen.

This is Millie, whose main concern was being with friends. Whether that happened on earth or in spirit wasn’t as important to her.

It’s OK to cry or be mad as hell. Find whatever help and support you need. Then consider what you can do to make things better. Sit quietly with your dog as she is facing the last months or days of her life. Foster a horse for a rescue. Donate money for hay, cat food or medical expenses. No matter how small the effort may be, it will do more good than turning away or joining the calls for retribution on social media.

A cool book I read a few years ago has lots of ideas to get you started. You can also contact a local shelter or rescue and say you want to channel some heartbreak into good action. They’ll get it. Especially if you follow through.

Animal Reiki and ‘people’ Reiki: key differences

Nancy Crowe
Woman on massage table in Reiki session
Rescued horse after Reiki session

Animals speak energy like a Ph.D. We speak energy like a kindergartner.

Kathleen Prasad

“You practice Reiki with animals? How does that work?”

Great question! Reiki is a Japanese stress relief modality, and relaxation helps the two-legged and four-legged alike feel and function better. While the benefits are the same, the methods of Kathleen Prasad’s Let Animals Lead® animal Reiki are different from the Reiki you’ll experience in human offices, hospitals, and spas.

I don’t invite the animal to hop up on a massage table (cats leave and horses laugh). The hand positions I learned in my “people” Reiki classes don’t apply, and that’s not because of different anatomies. 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 animal Reiki years ago, I used the hand positions with my dog Ellie as I sat with her on the floor. If she had a hot spot on her foot, I lightly held her foot. More often than not, she’d get up and leave. I now understand that was too much for her. When I sat quietly and meditated — and better yet, ditched any expectation about the “problem” or what should happen — Ellie was more likely to come and lie down nearby.

My teacher, Kathleen Prasad, had a similar experience. That’s how she developed the Let Animals Lead® method I now practice. It’s based on meditation, not touch. Moreover, it puts the animals completely in charge of whether and how they participate in a session. They are free to decline. They can come closer, move away, sit, walk around, eat, sleep, etc. while the practitioner holds space in quiet meditation. Letting animals lead is important for a couple of reasons.

First, it respects the animals. They may have been abused, neglected, moved around, treated by veterinarians, or had their hooves worked on for the first time in years. Mind you — rescue efforts and veterinary treatment may be for their best and highest. So is the chance to choose.

That’s why I always ask for the animal’s permission before I begin. If I get a no, either telepathically or through body language, I thank the animal for letting me know and move on.

Second, how much more can animals relax when doing so is up to them? (Raise your hand if you relax on command. Didn’t think so.)

Every animal is different. Some will immediately come and lean on me or want to be petted; others soak in the energy from a distance. It works regardless.

I’ve worked with rescued horses who have rarely, if ever, had a chance to choose or say no to anything. One day a retired draft horse, recovering from trauma, decided he’d had enough and walked back into the shed. I thanked him and moved on to the chickens a few yards away. A short time later, he stuck his big head out of the shed and asked: “You got any more of that?” (I did.)

Another horse, recently rescued from a kill pen, declined the session and moved away. A few minutes later, she came back to where I stood at the pasture fence and asked for more. This happened several times in the course of half an hour or so. She was astonished that interacting was her choice. The next time I saw her, I tentatively held up my hands, telling her I’d lower them or step away if she preferred. She placed her head in my hands and stood perfectly still. (The photo above is of her drifting into a post-session nap.)

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.

Ready to adopt again?

Nancy Crowe

dog & person silhouette Image by Barbara Jackson from Pixabay

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.

Eight years ago this month, 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.