Many years ago, when I was still studying animal communication, I was completing a set of case histories, pro bono, for one of my teachers. I would ask friends if I could talk to their animals, get a few questions from them to ask the subject, proceed with a simple communication, fill out a form, and submit it to my teacher (with feedback from the animal’s person/owner).
One such practice case was right under my nose! My daughter, who was in college at the time, had left her young cat, Moses, with me for a couple of months while she worked out of state one summer. Moses was a large black and white cat with long hair and “tuxedo” markings. He was a charmer, and his coat was so luxuriant there was no indication of what type of body hid beneath it.
I lived in the country with my horses, dogs, and other cats, so was careful to monitor Moses, especially during his first few weeks there, as he had always lived in the city and knew only city ways. He stayed outside all day every day, hiding in tall grasses, watching the wildlife, and pouncing on grasshoppers. It was almost impossible to tear him away from this endless entertainment when it was time to come in at night.
My daughter came home halfway through the summer and, although it is very embarrassing to admit, was alarmed to find Moses way too thin and light. She was worried! I was too, once I realized she was right. He felt like a featherweight — just skin and bone under all that glorious fur. And I had noticed he wasn’t eating much but assumed he was probably killing and eating birds and mice because I had seen him hunting.
We decided immediately that he should be one of my practice cases, and that I should talk to him and see if I could find out what was “wrong.” (Naturally we assumed something was awry; perhaps he was even gravely ill.)
After the appropriate greetings and polite requests for his cooperation, I began quizzing Moses. I won’t quote the entire conversation here, but the important part, about his weight, went something like the following:
“Moses, we notice that you seem to be much lighter than usual.”
Question mark in a bubble coming back from Moses: “What does THAT mean?”
As best I could I showed him how he was a shadow of his former self. “How do you feel, Moses?”
“Great, why?”
“Good. Just asking. Are you getting enough to eat?”
“I’m not interested in eating.”
“Oh my, why?”
“There’s way too much to do out there, and I’m having way too much fun!”
So there it was. The simplest answer possible, plain as the nose on my face. I proceeded to explain in great detail how it was absolutely necessary to eat, plenty, in order to stay in one’s body, and that his beloved (my daughter) would be devastated if he didn’t, and if he allowed himself to float away from not eating.
After puzzling a bit on this, although he didn’t seem to think it was such a big deal, he said he certainly didn’t want to upset her and would start eating. And so he did, the very next day, and regained all his weight — probably 5 lbs. — within just a week or two.
I guess the communication worked because he never lost weight again. And he lived in the country for most of his life thereafter, always and forever the stalker!
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