I didn’t expect to write a follow-up to Gracie’s last chapter so soon, but apparently, I have homework – and you’re involved.
Yes, homework. Cue the drumroll. I’ve enrolled in an Animal Communication course.
Some of you are rolling your eyes. Others – who know me well – are probably nodding and saying, “Of course she did.” My kids should be honestly grateful their mother keeps life interesting.
How I Got Here (Besides Following Breadcrumbs)
During the nearly 14 years I had with Gracie, I always sensed there was something bigger going on between us. Beyond the unconditional love, I felt a deeper purpose. I’d look at her and ask, “Gracie, what grand reason brought you into my life?”
I simply wasn’t a dog person. I liked other people’s dogs. Dogs lived outside. Dogs smelled. Dogs slobbered. That was my entire resume on the subject. So, when I went looking for a teddy bear pup and found one, I should’ve known the universe was up to something.
A week before Gracie’s passing, I had a moment in the shower – one of those soul-level moments where the water is running over you but you’re really not in the shower anymore. I said out loud, “Oh Gracie, I know there’s more meaning to your life than just being my companion.”
And instantly, I felt it: it would be in her passing that another, powerful reason would reveal itself. She would be my teacher, my partner, my spiritual guide – and the knowing of that hit me so hard I began absolutely wailing. Not crying. Wailing. Because that answer had everything to do with her death, and I was nowhere near ready for that truth. It was too big, too heavy, too soon… and yet it was unmistakably real.
Enter: Animal Communication
A few days before that shower moment, a reel popped up on my Facebook feed – an animal communicator. Not a subject I’d been searching, mind you. One of the animals Lori connected with, a cat, showed up wearing sunglasses, a top hat, and a pink boa. This cat was delivering deep, philosophical messages even she couldn’t quite comprehend. Another cat spoke of life being an illusion and time not being real. I was loving all of it!
There’s no question for me that animals communicate. My question was more, “Why wouldn’t they?”
Animals have souls. Animals have something to say. It’s our job to listen.
We talk to our pets constantly. We tell them where we’re going. We reassure them we’ll “be right back,” even when we know we’re lying. That’s connection. Often I’d lie to Gracie because I couldn’t bring myself to saying, “You may have to be in your bed for 4-5 hours.” That killed me, so I had to lie. I’d downplay it and say something like, “It’ll just be a little bit and I’ll be home before you know it.” I’m sure she was thinking, “Yeh right. I know better. But if it makes you feel better, go with it.”
As the days went on, I felt pulled towards this work. I downloaded books on Audible. I listened. I learned that humans are born with the ability to hear animals and spirits; we just forget. It’s a muscle. And I’ve had enough spiritual breadcrumbs in my life to know when something is calling my name. It’s a myth to think you have to have been born with this gift. That only special people can do it. We are all special.
My highest thought was this: If I could help people through the heartbreak of losing their animal, by sharing a message from their beloved pet, having just gone through it myself, what a gift that would be.
So, I signed up for the same program the FB lady trained with. In one of her videos she shared she was an accountant who wasn’t particularly happy doing what she was doing and trusted when she was told if she put in the time, she’d be successful. She swore she’d be the very first student to fail the class and disprove to the teacher just anybody can do it. News flash: She’s not only successful but quit her day job and has a wait list of thousands.
I had an interview and was enrolled in the program on a Monday. Little did I know… the very next day would be my last with Gracie.
Her First Messages
Not long after she passed, I sensed Gracie saying she needed to “get out of my way.” She knew I’d need time, space, and emotional bandwidth to learn this new skill. I asked her why she’d been such a needy dog – diabetes, Cushing’s disease, all of it. She told me by putting me in the caregiver role, it would bond us even stronger. Even though it was hard on both of us, she knew it was necessary.
She was right.
Animal communication requires quiet, stillness, and hours of focus. Currently, it involves hours and hours at my computer. If I’d still been juggling insulin schedules, potty breaks, and attending to her whines, it wouldn’t have been possible and to be honest, frustrating.
I shared a message I received from Gracie in my recent blog, the one where I asked if she was ready to go, and she replied, “I’m ready when you are, Mom.”
And no, that wasn’t just what I wanted to hear. I much would have preferred, “Nope – not yet, a few more days,” because I could have been easily talked out of it at that point. But she knew I had to be ready.
The Most Profound Moment
A few days after she passed, I found one of her insulin syringes on the counter. I popped the orange cap off a few times – because that little “pop” was oddly satisfying, and then I decided to reenact our whole routine.
I walked to the laundry room where I always fed her. Closing my eyes, I could see her in my mind, running in, spinning around, waiting. I placed the imaginary bowl down, rubbed the spot on her neck, felt the needle piercing her skin, pushed the insulin in slowly, giving it one last push to make sure all of the medicine had found its way into her, and withdrew the syringe.
I then stood up, opened my eyes – and that’s when I heard her:
“But Mom, you forgot the best part! You always took your hand and slid it down my back. I loved that part.”
That was an absolute OMG moment. That part was as much a part of the ritual as any of it. How could I not have remembered to do that? I did it twice a day – every day- for a year and a half. It started out to feel for any wetness, to be assured the insulin went where it was supposed to, but then became a sweet, sacred ending to the routine. I would ask Jesus to put His hand over mine as my hand slowly glided down her back. I forgot. She reminded me.
This was the clearest, most beautiful exchange we’ve had since she crossed over. However, while typing this morning, in my mind I saw her approaching the couch, wanting up. When I imagined pulling her body up, I heard her say, “You don’t have to do that anymore. I can jump now.” And so she did.
So Here I Am
I’ve started the course. I imagine Gracie curled beside me on the couch as I listen and learn. I had no idea how I was going to explain this new chapter to people, but honestly, I’ve done much harder things. Recently – one of the hardest. So saying I want to communicate with animals? That barely registers on the “Lisa has officially lost it” scale.
People who know me know I love this kind of work. Years ago, I practiced energy healing and I still believe in it wholeheartedly. This is simply an extension of that.
And now I need your help.
I Need Animals to Practice On
If you’re willing to share your pet with me I’d be so grateful. This is completely complimentary.
I’ll need from you a photo of your pet and just a few specifics that I’ve listed on my FB page. See link below.
I want to be transparent: I’m just starting. I may be 100% off. I may get nothing. This is a skill built on practice, patience, and trust. If I get one clear detail, one message that lands, that’s a win.
Please don’t feel bad if your feedback is, “Yeah… no. That wasn’t my pet you were connecting with. Honestly, you might be better off taking those breadcrumbs you think are signs and making meatloaf with them.”
I’ll dust myself off, thank you and your animal, and keep going.
Join Me
This program is so assured of our success, it has us creating new social media accounts early on, so I’m asking you to follow my new Facebook page:
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61574393920191
Follow the instructions on my page and post your pets pics. Help me grow this work.
And thank you – for reading, for supporting, and for loving Gracie right along with me.
Editor’s note: Just before Gracie passed, my husband took a quiet video of her resting in my arms. It was hard to watch later, but then I saw it – clear as day. She didn’t blink… she winked! And in that tiny, deliberate gesture, I felt her say, “This isn’t goodbye”. It felt more like a promise. That wink became the heartbeat of our next journey together.
