Tag pet health

Study finds Reiki helps with pain relief in dogs

Nancy Crowe
St. Bernard and black German Shepherd

The American Holistic Veterinary Medical Association has published a blinded, placebo-controlled, randomized clinical study on how distant Reiki affects the quality of life and well-being in dogs. Reiki, as you may know, is a Japanese stress relief modality. I practice a specialized, meditation-based form of Reiki called Let Animals Lead.®

All dogs in the Reiki group (vs. the placebo group) showed owner-assessed pain improvement, with 70.6 percent showing an “excellent” or “moderate” improvement. Here’s the abstract with link to the full article by Claudia Ruga Barbieri, DVM, MS, MBA. 

Bernadette, left, and Jack both dealt with pain of various sorts and not only benefited from Reiki but taught me a great deal as well. Being leaned or sat on by a St. Bernard, especially in the sunshine, is a great reminder about staying present on the animal’s terms. Jack would let me throw the ball (even though I throw badly) several times before he stopped for a meditation session.

They’re on my mind more lately because two years ago this month, they died in a plane crash with their beloved humans, Allison Wheaton and Randy Strebig. May their memory be a blessing, and may we all continue to learn about healing. 

(Photos by Nancy Crowe)

dog trying to look innocent

Help your pet’s medicine go down

Nancy Crowe
Photo by Nancy Crowe

I put the tablet in Molly’s food every day, and every day she scarfed it all down, no questions asked. When I found one of the pills stuck under her water dish, I had questions. No answers were forthcoming — just the face you see in the photo — so from that day on the pill got smeared with a bit of her wet food and deposited directly into her mouth. Fortunately, she was OK with that.  

Medicating our animal friends requires shifting strategies; if one stops working, we have to be ready with another. Back when heartworm preventive pills had to be given every day, I rotated among braunschweiger, hot dogs and cream cheese to hide them in. As soon as Pepper the schnauzer deftly worked the pill loose and dropped it onto the floor, shooting me a “do you think I was born yesterday?” look, it was time for a new enticement.

Wirecutter recently reviewed pet-pilling techniques and products, which inspired us to try the Tomlyn paste with for our smart senior cat’s medication. It’s early days, but so far it’s working more consistently than putting it in her wet food.

Just as important as the method or vehicle, if not more so, is our mindset. You may have to give a medication topically, or perhaps putting it in food doesn’t work and you have to make a kitty burrito (wrapping the cat in a towel with just the head sticking out, gently opening her mouth and inserting the pill or squirting in a liquid with a syringe). If you approach the task like a hunter, a wrestler, or with a dread-laced dusting of baby talk, it confirms to the animal that this must indeed be a bad thing. They will feel/behave accordingly.

If, on the other hand, you take the attitude of: It’s time for your medication, no big deal, we’ve got this — you’ll get better results AND have a much better relationship with your beloved animal. (I would be remiss if I did not add that their time on earth is too short for us not to make the most of every moment, even the uncomfortable ones.)

I had a client who was quite nervous about giving her young cat injections every day. In a communication session, the cat asked me to encourage her to be more confident and he would be, too. I passed this along, and a little more tutoring from the vet tech got them both on the road to recovery.

Here’s more on medicating your pet (with liquids as well as pills) from Fear Free Happy Homes, and on other tough tasks (vet visits, nail trims, etc.) from me.

Remaining a trainable human

Nancy Crowe
Photo by Nancy Crowe

The monthly application of flea/tick/heartworm preventive to the back of our cats’ necks is one of their least favorite things. It’s one of those tough tasks I counsel my animal communication clients to approach with calm, firm deliberation. Respectful handling is key to Fear Free for vet clinics, shelters, groomers and more.

Yet sometimes we fail to follow through on what we know. A couple of months ago, for reasons I don’t even remember, I was in a hurry. With applicator in hand, I quickly went to Lucy, bent over her and dripped the liquid onto the back of her neck. She shot me a look of reproach — and worse, hurt — and ran off.

I instantly regretted how I had administered the medication. There was no rough handling, but my “We’re getting this done. Now.” approach didn’t ease the process for Lucy or bolster her trust in me. My disappointment at having ignored my own advice, training and experience was secondary.

Nevertheless, Lucy accepted the treats I offered immediately afterward, along with an apology.

Later that day, when the stress of the moment had had a chance to wear off a bit, I invited her to join my yoga practice, something we both enjoy. For the most part she offers a classically feline “you call that a stretch?” glance and settles on a nearby chair. On this day, when she padded into the room, I told Lucy I knew better and would do better. She joined me on the yoga mat and purred.

When the time came for the next month’s dose, I took a second to remember what I knew. That’s obvious, yet so easy not to do.

I carefully approached Lucy, picked her up and held her for a moment. “I know you don’t like this, but we can manage,” I said, keeping my breathing even. I set her down on her cat tree where I could steady her without having to bend over her. I took another breath, squeezed on the topical medication and gently set her on the floor. Again she hurried off, stopping only briefly for treats.

I moved on to the day’s next task, assembling a glass terrarium to keep our other cat from nibbling on the smaller houseplants (a story for another day). I sat cross-legged on the floor with the base, sides, doors and instructions spread out, along with the enclosed bag of bolts and other itty bitty parts.

Within a few minutes, in strolled Lucy. She sniffed at the new materials on the floor, then climbed into my lap and curled up, purring.

Cats like trainable humans.