Tag pet health

Let Animals Lead®: A specialized form of Reiki rooted in meditation

Nancy Crowe
Dolly, left, and Maggie after a Let Animals Lead® session.

You may hear me talking more about meditation than Reiki these days. That’s because the animal Reiki method I practice, Let Animals Lead®, works through meditation. It’s different from what you may know as Reiki.

Let Animals Lead® was developed by Kathleen Prasad, founder of Animal Reiki Source and co-founder of the nonprofit Shelter Animal Reiki Association, to which I belong. Let Animals Lead® is a specialized form of Reiki, a Japanese stress relief modality: “Rei” stands for spirit or higher power, and “ki” (sometimes seen as “chi”) is the energy that animates every living thing.

Reiki was developed a century ago by Mikao Usui. It was essentially meditation; subsequent teachers added hand positions. These hand positions are used with a human client seated in a chair or lying on a massage table. That was how Kathleen and tons of other practitioners, including me, learned Reiki. Today, Reiki promotes relaxation and healing in spas, private clinics, hospitals and other settings.

As time went on, Kathleen found that “people Reiki” wasn’t always effective with animals … despite the best intentions of the practitioner. Because animals are much more sensitive to energy, touch generally isn’t needed. Animals who have experienced abuse, trauma or illness may even shy away from touch.

Kathleen saw this most acutely when her beloved dog Dakota was sick. He wouldn’t sit still for traditional Reiki, but when she sat quietly in meditation, he settled beside her.

Creating a peaceful space where animals are free to share on their own terms turned out to be a game changer. Thus Let Animals Lead® was born.

I had taken one or two of Kathleen’s earlier classes and practiced animal Reiki, but training with her as a Let Animals Lead® practitioner and teacher allowed me to offer animals and their people something better. It is my honor to see creatures from mice to rescued draft horses join with me and take the lead in their own healing — whatever that means for them.

Is it still Reiki? Yes. Is it more accurately and recognizably described as meditation? Also yes.

In a world where so much seems murky, talking about a discipline that makes animals’ lives better can be clear.

Walking the talk with my own animals

Nancy Crowe

My partner and I recently made the gut-wrenching decision to let our 11-year-old dog, Molly, be put to sleep. That was preceded by weeks of: How bad is it? How bad might it get? Are her good days/minutes still outnumbering the bad? What else can we try? 

Over and over, I told Molly I loved her and thanked her for the love, care and laughs she’s given us. I talked with her and the cats about what was happening and acknowledged how strange and sad it all was. I assured all of them we would get through it, one day at a time, and that Kathy and I would care for and support them. We shared healing meditations and I prayed for courage.

Every time I started down the path of worry and despair, I reminded myself to return to the present moment, which was where Molly needed me to be. Sometimes I got further down that path than other times. I kept coming back, however imperfectly.

After Molly gently departed on her next adventure, Lucy (the black tortoiseshell cat pictured above) was stoic and attentive. Dusty, her younger calico sister, kind of understood what was going on but still found it confusing. Kathy and I did our best to reassure them and cope with the raw void. 

Less than a week after Molly’s passing, I noticed food-driven Lucy wasn’t finishing her kibble. She ended up having five teeth extracted. Lucy has tooth resorption, which basically means her saliva breaks down her teeth, and had had five extractions less than a year before. Tooth resorption is not uncommon in cats, but science hasn’t figured out why it happens or how to fix it.  

This time her recovery was full of ups and downs — different medications for pain and nausea, trying all manner of soft foods and feeding methods to get her to eat, and trips back to the vet clinic to be checked and rechecked. We were all still slogging through the fog of loss. I shared meditation with Lucy daily but wondered if I was getting it all wrong.

On a Saturday, after another vet visit and another failed attempt to get her to eat more than a couple of small bites, I was at the end of my tether. I wanted Lucy better. Yesterday.

Lucy was getting veterinary care. Now I had to force myself to do what I’d suggest to any client in this situation: Take a breath and focus on the connection rather than “the problem.”

Only then was I able to communicate with my cat without worry butting in.

What Lucy told me was not that she was tired of going to the vet and being cajoled to eat … though who could blame her? What she told me was that her mouth was still adjusting and her body was healing. She could feel the prayers and healing energy working. What she needed was time. And steadiness. She needed me not only to show up but keep coming back. Because we humans do drift.

I began to breathe a little easier. Her appetite remained sketchy for the rest of the weekend. On Monday afternoon she followed me into the furnace room, which is off limits to the cats, and ducked underneath some shelving.

“Lucy! Outta there!”

All I could see was the faint, dark outline of a cat crouched amid the dust bunnies. Never have I been so glad to see a cat behave like a stinker.

I went back upstairs, grabbed a fork and tapped the side of her stainless steel food bowl. Out of the furnace room and up the basement stairs she ran. And ate a bit more food.

The next morning, Lucy ate her breakfast normally. Well, maybe not quite normally, but close enough that we could see she’d turned a corner.

Lucy continues to improve, and we all continue to heal. It is not a linear process, and of course there’s never a good time for an animal to be ill or pass away. We humans have enormous responsibility for our animal companions, and yet there’s so much we cannot control. I’ve discovered that returning to God, to the breath, and to the presence of the animals can only help. Sometimes it’s the only thing that does.

Even if I have to do it several times a day (or hour), I’ll keep coming back.

Changing your flooring? Paws and explain

Nancy Crowe

Dog lying on carpet looking concerned

Simple animal communication techniques can help your pet adjust to new flooring. (Image by Fran__ from Pixabay)

Once the noise is over, animals generally adapt to home improvements.

Unless you’ve changed the floors. Then, as Ricky Ricardo would say, you’ve got some splainin’ to do.

Animal communication can help you do the splainin’ up front and preserve everyone’s peace of mind.

Here’s an example of why it matters:

A friend’s cat developed raw bald spots from over-grooming and retreated to a back bedroom instead of snuggling or playing the way she usually did. My friend couldn’t figure out why. As it turned out, she and her husband had just replaced most of the flooring in their house.

Flooring changes can be traumatic because cats and dogs navigate the world through their feet in a way we do not. Your pet knows your carpet, tile, or hardwood intimately — its contours, textures, smells, and squeaks — and has left his scent with his paws. He knows how to walk on it so his feet don’t skid.

So when you rip out that carpet with years’ worth of daily debris, you’re removing part of what he knows as home. Whatever you replace it with might look and feel tons better to you, but to him it’s strange, smelly, maybe even hazardous.

Some distant Reiki, reassurance, and one-on-one time soon had my friend’s feline purring and playing again, and her fur growing back.

But what if we could make these home improvement projects easier on our pets from the start?

This was on my mind when my spouse and I swapped out carpet and linoleum for vinyl planking on most of the main floor. The planks were delivered ahead of time, so our dog and two cats had a chance to check the new stuff out. A day or two before the install, I told them the carpet and linoleum would be going away and the planks would go down in their place.

As I spoke, I pictured the new look and texture, and how much happier the overall feel of the house would be. (A happier atmosphere, with happier humans, is a selling point for even seemingly aloof cats.)

Our animals know and love Sam, the remodeler we work with, as well as his crew. So I pictured them when I told the animals who would be coming in to do the work. During this time, the cats would be kept in an upstairs room with water, litter box, and a view of the front of the house so they could monitor all comings and goings. I let the dog know she’d be allowed to say hello to the guys, and then she and I would keep out of the way in my home office behind a baby gate. I told all three there would be noise and strange smells, but they would be safe.

During the two-and-a-half-day install, there were a few meows of protest from behind the closed door. The dog got tired of the confinement but refrained (mostly) from barking.

As soon as the crew left for the day, I let everyone out to inspect what had been done so far. While they did so, I pictured all the furniture back where it was on the new floor, and them getting used to the new surface under their paws. Even when fully informed, animals are skeptical about change — but they went with it.

Once the work was done and everything back in place, they walked gingerly, especially in the rooms that previously had carpet and therefore better traction. Within a day or two, our older cat acted as if nothing had changed, and what were the other two edgy about? The younger cat soon discovered that skidding around corners just added to the fun of thundering through the house. For about a week, the dog stayed on area rugs as much as possible to avoid the new surface. Gradually, she figured out how to sit, lie down, and stand up on it without her feet skidding out from under her.

Still: no loss of hair, no behavior changes, and no pee-mail. The new floor did in fact improve the energy of the house. I call that a win.

If you plan on making changes to your flooring or floor covering, here are a few quick tips to help all family members keep their feet on the ground:

1. Buy pet-friendly flooring

It’s worth doing this right. Invest in eco-friendly, pet-friendly materials that wear well and clean up easily. Get information from unbiased sources (Consumer Reports is a time-tested one) and work with a contractor you trust.

2. Brief the troops

Using words and mental pictures, tell the animals what will change in which area(s) of the house, where they will be while the work is being done, about how long it will take, and that there may be some noise and new smells. If you have the new material or even a sample, let them sniff it. Hold a positive picture in mind of how much nicer the house will feel once it’s done, and assure them you will keep them safe. You may still face some resistance just on principle, but keeping them informed eases the overall process.

3. Create a safe space

Animals should be kept where they will not be in the way, get hurt, or get outside, and they should have access to water, a litter box, and maybe a blanket or favorite toy. I try to sequester the cats before the crew arrives and resist the temptation to open the door even a sliver to check on them. Paws can get injured in doors, and entire kitty bodies can slither through and be someplace they shouldn’t in the blink of a well-intentioned eye. For dogs, baby gates generally work better, as they don’t feel as shut off. Offer reassurance along the way.

Animals absorb and understand far more than we think, so it’s important to keep your own energy calm and positive — even as you’re corralling them for the day’s work.

Progress of any sort can be messy, but you and your animal friends can help one another through it.