The following morning, my husband had an early meeting that he could not get out of but planned to leave the office right after his meeting.  We felt it was best to send our son to school.  So ironically, Poodie’s life had begun with me bringing her home from work when she was just under a year old.  She was the pet of a co-worker’s uncle. Apparently Poodie didn’t get along with the other animals in the house, so the man punished her by keeping her in a cage all the time and not feeding her.  He was going to give her to a shelter, but I brought her home with me that day without so much as a collar or any other belongings–just a rope tied around her neck that the man used as a leash.  I don’t think it was a coincidence that her transition to the other side would include only the two of us.

When the veterinarian arrived, Poodie was fast asleep.  She woke as he was leaning toward her with the needle.  She gave him a weak growl and then rested her head on my lap.  I kept telling her that it was okay to go as I caressed the top of her head. Her passing was peaceful in the comfort of her own home.  Once her spirit disconnected from her body, she was guided to the other side by those she knew.

A few nights ago, my nine-year-old son asked how we can know that Poodie isn’t waiting around on Earth because she didn’t die a natural death?  “When God wants someone, they die and God is ready for them but that didn’t happen with Poodie.  We helped her,” he said. “So how do we know she’s with God”?  I told him that Nanny and Timber helped Poodie cross over, so she wouldn’t get lost.  Plus, we had a sign from her a few days after she passed– a green hummingbird drinking nectar from the flowering plum tree, which was her favorite place to sit and relax in our backyard.

Anysia

 

I’ve gotten a lot of inquiries this week about pets, the afterlife, and validation signs.  Of course, as a medium, I believe that pets have souls and can send signs from the afterlife just like humans.  Sometimes we need to hear true stories to remind us that everything is possible including the compassion of our pets in the afterlife.

Our first pet was a crazy chocolate Labrador Retriever named Timber. With a boxy head and amber puppy eyes that dropped when he grew tired, he melted my heart the moment I met him.  His penchant for baked goods included all homemade cakes and cookies and a special fondness for Dunkin Donuts. I think he recognized the box or perhaps the smell.  Whenever someone brought a box of those sugary treats into our home, he stalked them like a shark tracing a chum slick.  He always managed to steal one or two even though it meant he’d be banished to the backyard for an hour or so–a small price to pay for such a rare delicacy to the canine palate.

I wish I could say he was a good boy, but he was actually the  antithesis.  He chewed a kitchen set and many other things in his puppy hood.  He improved slightly as he matured but always managed to do “bad boy” things like stick his head in the kitchen trash can and steal food.  Though he ate all the candy canes and chewed at least four Christmas tree ornaments each year, we loved him for being Timber–our unique dog that would sleep in the tub during thunderstorms.

At the young age of eleven, he developed an aggressive form of facial cancer.  I immediately began looking for natural ways to help him.  I found a holistic veterinarian that treated him with herbs rather than chemotherapy and radiation. At the time, I was studying my Reiki Master level certification.  I gave him everyday and he seemed happy and comfortable, yet his cancer grew.  I continued my quest of alternative therapies for him including aromatherapy, diet changes, and lymphatic massage.  I realized that Timber’s cancer had an important effect on me; it spurred my development as a healer.  I recognized that our relationship was much more than a pet and owner; there was a spiritual connection between us.

The day Timber died, we drove him to the veterinarian, knowing that he wouldn’t be coming home with us. My heart ached, as I called to my deceased maternal grandmother to help him cross.  As he inhaled his last breath, I saw her standing across from me and I knew he was in good hands.  During the tearful drive home from the veterinarian that night, I sent him a mental message to give me a sign when he crossed.  I asked for a blue butterfly. Later that same night, I woke and glanced in the hallway to find him standing there. His coat glistened brilliantly and his tail wagged happily from left to right.  I felt tears on my face but perhaps they were tears of joy knowing he was okay. When I wiped my tears he vanished from my sight.

The following morning, we took our son and other two Labradors to the cranberry bog for our Saturday morning walk.  I missed Timber’s mischievous energy.  Though the brisk morning air bit at our skin as usual and the hawks routinely weaved and out of the trees, the walk felt foreign without my husband, Shane, chasing Timber out of the bog . My eyes watered  when we crossed the bridge over the tea-colored creek.  Timber loved swimming in it and I missed watching him thrashing about in the cedar water.  Just then the most stunning bright blue butterfly fluttered around my face for a few moments, as my husband and I gazed in amazement.  I’ve never seen another blue butterfly. I accepted this as a special gift of validation from Timber and sent him thoughts of gratitude not only for the sign but also for sharing a remarkable part of my life.

The souls of our pets live on in the afterlife.  They’re able to send us signs, symbols, and visit us in dreams just like any other spirit.  They remain connected to us and know when we need.  Like all our loved ones in spirit form, they are only a thought away from us.

Love and light,

Anysia

This question comes up a lot.  People always wonder if a pet that passed-on has gone to heaven.  I have often seen pets come up with their former human companions–who are now in spirit form. I have encountered the spirits of dogs, cats, birds, and a host of reptiles as well.

I used to volunteer at the Associated Humane Societies Tinton Falls location.  For two years, I visited the shelter every Thursday and gave Reiki to the cats, dogs, bunnies, and ferrets.  It was a wonderful lesson in compassion because the animals were so loving and grateful to be helped.  As I worked on the animals, I would get images of where they had been before they wound up in the shelter.  I could see the conditions the animals were exposed to including those involving neglect and abuse.  Though they could not verbalize, the animals told stories with the images and their emotions which they shared in the healing sessions.

Early on in my shelter work, I met a dog named Blue.  He was a blue Doberman Pinscher.  His shirt-haired coat was a beautiful shade of gray-blue. Although he was less than two-years-old, his paws were immense–an indication of his tremendous growth potential.  His most striking feature was his icy blue eye color–like a clean deep ocean–which gave his eyes a human quality.  I nicknamed him Gentle Giant for though he had a large frame, he had the personality of an affectionate little lap dog.

The shelter manager said Blue was turned in because he tried to bite his owner.  But, I got a very different impression when I worked on the Gentle Giant.  I saw his former owner trying to make the dog aggressive by taunting him with a stick.  Blue just sat there with his head cocked to the side as if confused.  I got the impression his owner wanted a large breed dog and preferred an aggressive temperament.  But the Gentle Giant didn’t have the makings of an aggressive disposition, so he was turned into the shelter.

At the advice of my doctor, I  stopped volunteering at the shelter when I was seven months pregnant with my daughter.  I had been scratched by one of the cats and my doctor was concerned about me contracting Toxoplasmosis. I deep sadness resonated in me as I walked through the shelter on my last day.  But I continued to send distance energy to the animals, even though I could not be there physically.

A couple of months ago, I was doing a distance healing session on someone.  I had soft music playing on the Pandora radio station.  Toward the end of the session, I saw images of Blue, Gentle Giant.  He was running in a lush green field and his silvery coat glistened in the bright sun.  He sat in front of me for a moment and then ran off.  I opened my eyes and the song on the Pandora station was Vangelis’  – Remembering Blue.   I sat in my chair and sent him thoughts of gratitude and love for his sweet visit.   “Yes”, pets have souls (even those without human owners) and “Yes”, their souls live-on, just like those of their human counterparts.

Love and light,

Anysia