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 "Don't worry, Sapphire. No more Valium. You're just going through what we girls call the change of life. " |
Who Talks To Cats |
Have a troubled kitty?
Who do ya call? Valerie!
By PATRICIA J. GEISTER
of TheColumnists.com
One of the most truly gifted people I know is Valerie. She’s an animal psychic/communicator, artist, musician, and Reiki Master. Reiki (Ray-key) is a telepathic form of positive energy used to heal pain and suffering. I've asked Valerie to use it on me and my cats. I had to be convinced. She convinced me. Had she lived in the time of the Salem witch trials, I believe she would not have disclosed all of her talents.
Julie, my friend and quasi
daughter, introduced us. They had met at a New Age Life Fair.
All I originally knew was her interest in things artistic or
musical. That was before our female feline began exhibiting symptoms
of what turned out to be menopause. If you think living with
a human female in that stage of life is perplexing, try it with
a cat.
In the beginning we had the sweet version of Sapphire. At age
5 she began having temper tantrums and episodes of unprovoked
aggression. She was a tiny thing, yet when she got mad she would
attack Rascal, our 10-pound Siamese male. This was so unlike
her that I called our vet for advice. He prescribed an anti-depressant.
She didn't improve. After that he prescribed Valium in an extremely
low dosage. It worked, but then we had a sweet natured zombie
cat. She slept peacefully nearly round the clock and always woke
up ravenously hungry. If I didn’t dope her up Rascal’s
life was miserable.
Our vet suggested I look for a good pet psychic. I thought he was kidding. No, he wasn’t. Where was I going to find someone who could communicate with this furry female? Communicate, hell! I was on the verge of keeping her stuffed to the gills with Valium. That’s when Julie suggested that I hire Valerie.
Sapphire was very happy to see Valerie. In fact, before she arrived, she would go into the kitchen and stare at the back door. That was to be Valerie’s entryway. I was told to hold the furry client in my lap and let her relax. For a little more than 30 minutes they communicated. Sapphire's list of grievances blew my mind.
Sapphire was in the beginning of menopause. She resented that age was slipping up on her; that she was no longer the "young cute thing" kitten. Rascal had no right to be younger. Why couldn't he be an old cat like Joe Bob, our senior tiger cat? Would I ever let her sit on the back porch or in the gazebo to see the world? Why couldn't she go outside and chase butterflies? She had seen a few through the window over one of the flowerbeds. They were so free, so unfettered. Birds were common, predictable and boring.
She attacked Rascal because he was a wimp. Wimps weren't her idea of a real tomcat. The closest to tears for releasing pent up emotions were temper tantrums or acts of aggression. Based on that explanation, she had cried buckets. Poor Rascal.
Nobody really loved her. Oh, we said we loved her, but she knew better. Yes, she loved us. Sometimes she thought we loved her, but did we love her enough? Only total, constant reassurance of our love and affection might keep her happier and calmer. (Dear God, will you please tell someone to invent hormone replacement therapy for menopausal cats?)
I kid you not, after Sapphire
got all of this out her system and vented to Valerie, I never
had to give her another Valium. If all else failed, I would call
Valerie and ask her to talk to Sapphire and find out why she
was unhappy, or why didn't she feel well. They really did communicate
via ESP. We lost our dear furry female to a stroke at age 12,
a little over a year ago.
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soft foods to cure his constipation. Lily, right, told Valerie she was suffering from feelings of rejection. |
Last year Rascal began experiencing his own ailments. We learned that he has chronic constipation. The vet and I both had to do research to come up with a suitable course of treatment. Also, a small benign tumor turned up on the right side of his neck. Once again I called upon Valerie to use her pet psychic talents. We needed to know just where all he was hurting. Was it more than chronic constipation? Ex-rays showed no additional problems. Valerie told me he had no other maladies, but he wanted his diet changed to soft foods. Okay, I did that. So far so good.
One time Valerie came up with a reference to something I hadn't even told her. I had an appointment to go to her house on an unrelated matter. Earlier that day I had taken Rascal to the vet for a re-check and he had drained the tumor. Now he was back home. The minute I walked through her front door she said, "Rascal is worried about a lump on his neck. He says the doctor made it hurt." I hadn't told her I'd been to the vet. Rascal had contacted her before I got there. He wanted her to help him. I explained it to her, told her it was nothing to worry about. She sat down, closed her eyes, and wordlessly contacted Rascal to ease his mind. Now, don’t you tell me the woman didn't do that. I'm telling you she did.
Then there was the episode of Lily's unwilling entry into our home. Her “mama” had a landlord who allowed only one pet per apartment. We had lost Sapphire less than a week earlier. I was in deep mourning and missed her terribly. When I was told that she’s one of Rascal’s grandchildren, I knew I had to have her. Lily needed a home and I needed her.
Silly Lily Long Tail (as I have added to her name) immediately took refuge in our basement. She sneaked up to eat and drink. Neither of our tomcats approached her. After a week she ventured upstairs to check us out. Rascal became her good buddy. Joe Bob tolerated her. From a safe distance she would observe us. I felt that she was hoping her mama would come back and get her. During those first two weeks she definitely felt rejected. We were not to be trusted.
Once again Valerie came to the rescue. In one phone call, Lily was convinced to trust us, and to get down from the TV and come sit in my lap.
“Good grief, Valerie. Lily came to me. She’s in my lap and seems calm.”
“Yes, I know. I told
her not to worry, that you all want her. Her other mama loves
her, but she had to do the right thing and sent her to you. Lily
wants to be loved and says she has lots of love to give. Rascal
has done a lot of talking to her, too.” Problem solved for
all concerned.
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If my master tried a cat psychic on me, I'd claw her freakin' eyes out in her sleep! I want a real shrink--and nothing less!" |
I’m not easily convinced in things of this nature. Although I try to keep an open mind, if it hadn’t happened to me, I’d really be skeptical. Valerie isn’t an itinerant gypsy fortuneteller from a carnival sideshow. The woman has many talents and gifts. Now I take her for granted.
© 2002 by Patricia
J. Geister. The illustrations are from IMSI's Master Clips Collection,
1895 Francisco Blvd. E., San Rafael, CA, 94901-5506, USA.
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