Darkangelyaya

As a passionate and possibly delusional, overenthusiastic animal lover, I have rescued my share of strays. And their sad stories told through their liquid eyes always break my heart.

I have often wondered how much animals really understand of our interaction with them. Sometimes it seems that what we interpret as a response might just be the reaction we would have liked, and not the one the animal actually intended. We are interpreting their communications through our own frame of reference. Or so I thought.

As I found myself increasingly intrigued, I decided to do an animal communication course. As soon as I entered the lecture room, the avalanche started. Straight away, they all started speaking to me! The animals that had been left at home while their owners attended the course were the first to contact me, mostly stating how excited they were that their owners had finally decided to take the plunge - and really start listening to them.

There was one parrot that was screaming so loudly in my ears, that I asked the lecturer to stop so I can convey something to his owner. ‘He hated that red dress’ – this was the message. Needless to say, everyone thought me a bit of a weirdo (yes, even in those surroundings), until the owner confirmed that she never could understand why the parrot would practically pass out, seemingly at random times. It then dawned on her that she had been wearing a specific red dress, every single time.

Since then, I have had to learn how to tune out most of the animals, or risk really turning into even more of a weirdo, perpetually mumbling to myself. They do talk back, all the time!

Their words and attitudes match their personalities. From curious horses wanting to know what I do for a living, to a shy dappled horse that I thought, how beautiful… This horse was quite taken aback; he had a similar shyness that people with freckles often exhibit. But if you look closely at a freckled skin, you will see it is luminous, and porcelain-fine. I explained this to the dappled horse, and he actually stood a little taller; had a little more confidence.

Animals love to tell you stories about others when you are away. For instance, a male friend looked after my daschund while I went away for the weekend. This coincided with a hot date he had booked. Early on Sunday morning, I mentally tapped into my doggie, and asked him how he was and what was going on there. He basically told me that he couldn’t sleep, because ‘that woman’ had been there all night. When I phoned my friend later, he was gushing about how awesome this new girl was, and that she had just left.

That same daxie told me in January 2012, in no uncertain terms, that he ‘wasn’t going to be with me for much longer’. I freaked out. He sighed, and said he’ll try his best to stay as long as possible. In July he got the disk prolapse that daxies are prone to. My proud little boy was paralyzed. I found an alternative vet who provides acupuncture treatment for such cases, and it seemed to be a little better. Four days after the first treatment he looked at me and quite clearly said: ‘You have got to let me go. I’m tired’. We then had a ‘discussion’ as to how this was to happen. He said ‘Tanya must do it. Monday at 10h00 will suit me’. (Tanya is the vet doing the rehab and alternative therapies).

Believe me – I do know how this sounds.

More to the point, I respected his wishes. A wacky friend and I had a farewell party for him that weekend where he could eat as much of whatever he felt like – roast chicken, chocolate, milk, name it. He was dosed up on painkillers, but knew he was the guest of honor.

On the Monday morning, his last living request was a cheese-griller sausage.

He said thank you, I love you, and goodbye Mommy. And Tanya and I cried for hours afterwards.

I always plant special flowers on the graves of all the animals who have passed through my life. When I was deciding on something for his grave, he firmly said: ‘Anything but pink’.

He still talks to me, sometimes. But now I mostly see him as a fierce and loyal shadow, keeping an eye on me.

Horses often complain about dusty blankets or smelly grooms; dogs about each other; cats will decide whether you are worthy of their time and effort, and ‘allow’ you, or not. Chickens and other 'lesser' birds are just not really all that interested in talking; they have much lower 'IQ' or interaction skills. I have not tried talking to birds of prey, but I assume they would be highly intelligent, and definitely 'class'-ist.

The fact of the matter is that it has proved a valuable skill to me, and it enables me to make a difference in the lives of my animal friends.

Should you decide to try it - remember that because most of the communication is telepathically, no-one would ever look at you like you should be licking windows on the yellow bus.

Unless, of course, you decide to blog it.

Carina 2012