The Dog Who Proved It Was Real

People sometimes ask me,

"When did you know you could really communicate with animals?"

The answer always makes me smile.

His name is Angus.

A friend asked if I would communicate with her dog.

Without thinking too much about it, I said yes.

That's kind of how I've always lived my life.

If something scares me...

I usually jump straight toward it.

I figure there's only one way to find out whether something is real.

So I drove to her house.

She took her other dog for a walk so Angus and I could have some quiet time together.

I sat down.

Looked into those deep brown eyes.

Took a deep breath.

And thought...

"What in the world am I doing?"

Seriously.

I had no idea what was supposed to happen.

I looked at Angus and quietly asked,

"Okay, Bud..."

"What would you like to share with me?"

Silence.

Then...

Clear as day, I heard,

"Get a pen and paper."

I looked around the room.

Out loud I said,

"I don't live here."

"You want me to go rooting around somebody else's house looking for a pen and paper?"

The answer came again.

"Get a pen and paper."

Well...

At that point, I figured things were already weird.

Why not keep going?

I found a pen.

One lonely sheet of paper.

Sat back down.

And then...

It started.

The words came so quickly I could barely write fast enough.

Angus had a lot to say.

He wanted a space of his own.

Not a doghouse.

A box.

Three sides.

Open in the front.

By the window next to the chair.

He wanted his favorite lamb toy in there.

His bully stick.

That was where he'd feel safe.

He talked about his mom.

Not in a way that blamed her.

He simply explained that when she felt anxious...

He felt anxious too.

But when she meditated...

Everything changed.

That's when he felt peaceful.

That's when he loved being near her.

I wrote.

And wrote.

And wrote.

I filled every inch of that paper.

When I ran out of room...

I started writing in the margins.

By the time I stopped, there wasn't a blank space left.

I remember sitting there staring at the page thinking...

"What just happened?"

No, really...

What just happened?

Where had all of that come from?

I had imagined animal communication would be subtle.

Maybe a feeling.

An image.

A knowing.

I never imagined hearing complete thoughts.

That day changed everything.

What Angus Taught Me

I wish I could tell you that after my conversation with Angus, I never doubted myself again.

That would make a lovely story.

It would also be complete nonsense.

I still question myself.

There are still moments when that little voice appears and says,

"Are you sure?"

"What if you're making this up?"

I've learned that doubt doesn't necessarily mean I'm doing something wrong.

Sometimes doubt keeps me curious.

It keeps me from assuming I know everything.

It reminds me to listen instead of deciding what an animal is going to say before I've heard them.

But Angus gave me something that day that no class or teacher could have given me.

My own experience.

I asked a question.

I listened.

And something happened.

Something I hadn't planned.

Something I wasn't expecting.

Something strange enough to send me searching through another person's house for a pen and paper because a dog told me to.

That's pretty hard to manufacture.

What I love most when I look back is that Angus didn't give me some profound spiritual speech.

He wanted a box.

By a window.

With his lamb toy and his bully stick.

Honestly, that may have been exactly what I needed.

Because animal communication isn't always about receiving some enormous message about the meaning of life.

Sometimes an animal just wants you to know what would make their life better.

And perhaps that's what gave me confidence.

I wasn't trying to be profound.

Neither was Angus.

We were simply having a conversation.

I think I had been waiting for certainty before I allowed myself to trust what I was receiving.

Angus taught me that I had it backward.

Trust didn't come before the experience.

Trust grew because I was willing to have the experience.

I didn't need to know I could communicate with animals before asking the first question.

I only needed enough courage to ask...

and enough openness to listen for the answer.

And apparently...

a pen.

Definitely a pen.

You May Be Wondering...

What does animal communication actually feel like?

Every communication is different.

Sometimes I receive words.

Sometimes images.

Sometimes emotions or physical sensations.

And sometimes there's simply a knowing that arrives without any obvious explanation for how I know it.

I've learned not to expect every animal to communicate in the same way.

I also don't believe every thought that pops into my head automatically came from an animal.

I stay curious.

I listen.

I ask questions.

And I allow the communication to unfold rather than trying to force it into a particular form.

That's something Angus taught me during my very first conversation.

I went into his house wondering whether I could hear an animal.

I left realizing that perhaps the more important question was:

Was I willing to listen?

Thankfully, Angus didn't give me much time to think about it.

He had things to say.

And apparently I was taking notes.

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