What Does My Animal Companion Want Me to Know?

If our animals could sit us down for a cup of tea and tell us exactly what they wanted us to know, I suspect a lot of us would be surprised.

Possibly offended.

Definitely humbled.

Because what we think is important may not be what they think is important at all.

We might arrive with questions like:

Are you happy?
Why are you doing that weird thing?
Do you like your food?
Do you know how much I love you?

And meanwhile our animal may be sitting there thinking:

Excellent. Finally. I have several items for the agenda.

Sometimes They Want to Tell Us Who They Are

Recently, I asked a friend to communicate with my dog Chonk.

Now, Chonk is a 73-pound pit bull.

Seventy-three pounds.

Big head. Big chest. Big presence.

So imagine my confusion when the communicator told me Chonk was coming through like a Boston terrier.

I remember thinking:

What the heck?

This is not a subtle breed-identification error.

A Boston terrier and a 73-pound pit bull are not exactly interchangeable.

But then the message became clear.

Chonk wasn't saying he was a Boston terrier.

He was telling me how he saw himself.

He thinks he's a little dog.

And honestly?

That made perfect sense.

This giant pit bull is afraid of leaves.

Amazon boxes.

Loud noises.

Possibly his own shadow if it catches him on the wrong day.

Chonk may occupy the body of a powerful 73-pound dog, but somewhere inside is apparently a tiny nervous gentleman who would appreciate everyone keeping the world at a reasonable volume.

That communication taught me something important.

Animals don't always communicate in literal statements.

Sometimes they show us an image.

A feeling.

A comparison.

A sensation.

And our job isn't necessarily to immediately say, That's wrong.

Our job is to get curious.

Why would he show himself that way?

Once I asked that question, Chonk made perfect sense.

Sometimes What They Want Us to Know Is Much Deeper

And then there are communications that stop you in your tracks.

My dog Jubee carried something very different.

When Jubee had a litter of puppies before she came into my life, the puppies were killed by a group of dogs.

What came through from Jubee was that she believed she had failed them.

She thought she was a bad mother.

That broke my heart.

Because suddenly I wasn't just looking at Jubee's history as something that had happened to her.

I was understanding what she had made it mean about herself.

She had carried guilt.

She had carried a belief that somehow she should have protected them.

That she had done something wrong.

And isn't that astonishingly familiar?

We humans do this too.

Something terrible happens that we could not control, and instead of simply grieving what happened, we add another layer:

I should have stopped it.

I should have known.

I should have done more.

It was my fault.

Learning what Jubee had been carrying changed the way I understood her.

She didn't need me to solve the past.

She needed to be heard.

She needed her grief to be witnessed.

And she needed to know that what happened did not make her a bad mother.

This Is Why I Ask Open Questions

One of my favorite questions in an animal communication session is simply:

What would you like your person to know?

Because it gets us out of the way.

We humans love an agenda.

We come armed with twelve questions, three follow-up questions, a color-coded spreadsheet, and possibly supporting documentation.

Animals are sometimes less interested in our organizational system.

They may answer the question we ask.

Or they may say:

Yes, yes, we'll get to that. First, I need to talk about THIS.

And very often, THIS is where the real conversation begins.

They May Want You to Know Something Completely Ordinary

Not every message is about the meaning of life.

Thank goodness.

Sometimes animals want to talk about food.

Beds.

Walks.

The neighbor's dog.

Who stole whose spot on the couch.

A gate they don't like.

A person they absolutely adore.

Or the deeply unacceptable fact that dinner has somehow moved seven minutes later than usual.

Animals can be profound.

Animals can also be extremely specific.

Those things aren't opposites.

Part of what makes communicating with them so wonderful is that one moment you may be talking about love, purpose, grief, and the nature of the soul...

…and the next moment someone would like to formally register a complaint about kibble.

Honestly, I respect the range.

Sometimes They Want Us to Understand a Behavior Differently

We often look at behavior and ask:

How do I make this stop?

The animal may have a different question:

Can you understand why I'm doing it?

That doesn't mean every behavior should simply continue forever.

But understanding can change everything.

Fear may look like stubbornness.

Overwhelm may look like misbehavior.

Grief may look like withdrawal.

A need for safety may look like resistance.

And sometimes the behavior is exactly what it appears to be.

Chonk really is afraid of leaves.

I wish I had a more spiritually sophisticated explanation for you.

I do not.

Sometimes a leaf is just terrifying.

Sometimes the Message Is About You

This is one of the most beautiful parts of animal communication for me.

Sometimes what your animal wants you to know isn't really about them.

It's about you.

They may be aware that you're exhausted.

That you're grieving.

That you're carrying too much.

That you don't trust yourself.

That you've forgotten how to play.

That you're moving through life so quickly that you're barely present for it.

Animals live with us.

They watch us.

They feel us.

They know our routines, our moods, our patterns, our heartbreaks, and all the things we think we're hiding while pretending everything is perfectly fine.

We are apparently not nearly as mysterious as we think we are.

And sometimes an animal's message isn't:

Here's what I need from you.

It's:

Here's what I want for you.

You Already Know More Than You Think

Something else I see again and again is that people often already know their animals extraordinarily well.

They just don't trust what they know.

A message comes through and they'll say:

“Oh my gosh. I knew that.”

Exactly.

Animal communication doesn't always reveal some giant secret you've never considered before.

Sometimes it confirms the whisper you've already been hearing.

That little feeling.

That knowing.

That sense that your animal has been trying to tell you something.

And maybe one of the greatest gifts of animal communication is not becoming dependent on someone else to tell you what your animal thinks.

Maybe it's learning to trust the relationship you already have.

Ask Them

You don't need to book a session every time you wonder what your animal wants you to know.

Try asking.

Seriously.

Sit quietly with them.

Take a breath.

Forget about doing it "right."

And ask:

What would you like me to know?

Then notice what comes.

A word.

An image.

A feeling.

A memory.

A sudden thought that doesn't quite feel like yours.

Or absolutely nothing.

That's okay too.

This isn't a performance.

Your animal isn't grading you.

There is no certificate at the end.

Communication is a relationship, and relationships deepen with attention.

This Is What I Learned

Chonk taught me that sometimes the information that initially makes the least sense contains the clue.

A 73-pound pit bull showing himself as a Boston terrier sounded ridiculous.

Until I understood what he was actually saying:

This is how I experience myself.

Jubee taught me something different.

She showed me that animals can carry stories about themselves too.

Pain.

Grief.

Guilt.

Beliefs about what they should have done differently.

Understanding that she believed she had failed her puppies allowed me to see a part of her I hadn't understood before.

One message made me laugh.

The other broke my heart.

Both helped me know my animals more deeply.

And that, to me, is the point.

Animal communication isn't just about asking our animals questions.

Sometimes it's about making enough space for them to tell us what we never thought to ask.

Because they may have been trying to tell us all along.

We just finally got quiet enough to listen.

May you see the world through the eyes of love, remembering that we are all part of one living, sacred whole.