On our walk yesterday evening, I asked Rajah what subjects he would like to talk about for our blog, as we haven’t put a post up in a long time. He said he wanted to talk about Time. Here is the conversation we had today.

J. Is there something you want to say or tell me about time from your perspective?

R. Yes. Humans make it sound like time is something you can have, something solid you can possess and own. They are always saying things like, “I don’t have time” or “if we have enough time we’ll do so and so.”

J. It’s true. I know I say those kind of things a lot.

R. Well, do you know that time doesn’t actually exist? It’s only a thing because humans made it so. Dogs and other animals don’t have time in the same way humans do.

J. But you certainly know when it’s time to eat and go to bed. And you seem to know when I’m doing a session with someone when it gets to the end of the session. When their time on the table in nearly up. Tell me about your experience of the passage of time.

R. It’s something I sense. I can’t look at that thing you look at [a clock] and know what part of the day it is. But I can smell it. Every part of the day (and night) has a slightly different smell and feel to it, so I always know what should be happening.

J. What about during the treatment sessions at work? How do you know when it’s at the end?

R. It’s the same thing, really. The feeling in the room changes.

J. That’s fascinating, Rajah. I can certainly see the light changing throughout the day, and can sometimes tell the approximate time of day, especially if I’m outside, without looking at my phone or a clock. But I don’t think I’d be able to run my day without looking at a clock at all. I like it that you wake up at pretty much the same time every day and wake me up too.

R. It just happens. Animals are in the flow of life. Humans are always trying to make things happen and putting effort into life. For us animals, life just happens. We don’t have to do anything. It’s constantly flowing through us. It’s in us and all around us, moving and shifting. We just get taken along with it. It’s very easy.

J. Thank you, Rajah. Will you give me that experience of how it is to ride along with time?

R. Yes. I’ll take you with me one day.

Here’s a short animal communication conversation I had with my rescue dog, Rajah, this morning about the javelinas that come through our yard on a regular basis, and the squirrels that drop pine nut casings on him as he’s lying on his outdoor bed.

J. Hello Rajah! Do you mind the squirrels dropping stuff on you in the mornings?

R. It’s okay. It’s better I don’t say anything because they have the advantage being above me. They want me to know they are there. They also like the company.

J. Why do you dislike the javelinas so much? Why make such a racket when they come through?

R. They stink! And they’re so noisy and brash! I’m a bit scared of them. I think they would take over my spot [in the yard] if I don’t say anything.

J. Do you want to fight them?

R. Not really. I also want you to know they are out there.

J. Will you promise me you won’t go close to them? They can be dangerous for you.

R. It’s hard for me to make promises as I don’t know if I’d be able to keep them. It’s what I want, but in the moment something else happens. I will try to keep away from them.

J. Can you give me the experience of what it’s like for you when the javelinas come through?

I feel like I’m seeing through Rajah’s eyes and experiencing looking out into our backyard. The javelinas are crashing through the bushes and I feel quite small and surrounded.

J. Oh, I can see how they seem really big and overwhelming to you. Kind of like giants – big and really smelly! You seem to get smaller when you smell them. It’s good that you tell me when you smell or hear them. I think it’s best for you to come inside while they’re out there.

R. Yes, I want to feel safe and I know you’re scared of them too.

J. Thanks for sharing your experience with me.

Rajah on his outdoor bed

Having an animal that’s poorly or in pain can be one of the hardest parts of being a pet parent. If only they could point to where it hurts or let us know why they are limping! Well, it turns out they can.

On a recent morning walk, Rajah started favoring a front paw. It’s foxtail season in Northern Arizona, and these dangerous grass spikelets are the bane of summertime life for dog parents. If you’re not familiar with foxtails, they are grasses with a barbed seed head that cling to fur and will keep burrowing into an animal’s skin. Even if you don’t have a dog, you may have experienced them in your socks and will know that, because of the barbs, pulling them back out the way they went in doesn’t work very well. You have to find the tip and pull them forward.


Our usual post-walk foxtail check came up with a couple between the toes, so I thought we’d taken care of the sore paw. But later in the day I noticed Rajah licking the paw again and he wasn’t keen to walk far. I asked him what was going on and he “told” me he had something stuck in it. Now, when I say he told me, it’s not that I hear his voice, or even words. Animal communication, for me, is getting sensations in my body, a feeling, an image, or sometimes simply a knowing. So I checked the paw again, this time using my energy practitioner skills to confirm what I was getting. I surrogate tested every area of the paw using energy kinesiology and sure enough, the test went weak when I touched the second toe. There was nothing I could see or feel, even using a magnifying glass, but Rajah cried when I touched there. Frustrated and feeling bad that I wasn’t helping him, I promised I would try again later.

That evening, my boy lay on his bed giving me an intent look that I knew meant he needed help with the paw. I again asked him what was wrong with it and saw an image of something sticking in the nail bed of his second toe. Taking a flashlight, I examined the paw once again and this time, maybe because of the extra light or simply seeing it from a different angle, I was able to locate the tiniest cactus spine next to the nail. It was almost impossible to see from any other angle, being the same color as the nail. It must have been barbed because Rajah winced when the tweezers pulled it out. Poor boy! That must have been so irritating and painful.

It’s easy to doubt the information we’re receiving from an animal, especially when there isn’t immediate or tangible confirmation. I’m so glad I have Rajah as my teacher! He’s very patient with me, as are all the best teachers.

Sometimes I Let My Dog Do The Driving

A couple of years ago, when we were deep into the fierce heat of July here in Sedona, when evenings don’t even begin to cool down until well after dark and the roads are still painfully hot for bare paws, I was at a loss for where to go for our evening walk. Rajah had broken nail a few days back and, while it was still healing he needed to walk on grass, which left us few options we hadn’t already tried. I had recently joined an animal communication class with renowned Animal Communicator, Maia Kincaid and, eager to keep up my practice with Rajah, in my moment of defeat I confided in him, “Rajah, I just don’t know where can go that will be cool enough to walk. We need grass. Where is there grass? Do you know where we can go?” I can’t say I heard an answer, but we got in the car anyway and started driving. I found myself in a sort of let-go state and simply drove without thinking about a destination. Left at the roundabout, towards the next town until without reason, I found myself turning right onto an unfamiliar street. Hmm. I don’t know about this. I can’t imagine there are any grassy spaces in this neighborhood. We should turn around and go back to somewhere we know.


I suddenly looked over to my right and saw what looked like a parking lot and thought it looked like a suitable place to turn around. As we pulled in, I realized this was in fact the parking lot for a little park. Grass! Lots of it and it had just been irrigated so it was deliciously cool to walk through. And right next door was an even bigger expanse of green. A golf course! I have no idea how Rajah knew of the existence of this park, let alone how to get there. But this wasn’t the first time he had surprised me with his navigational skills. Many a time Rajah has spotted a place from the car window that he wants to visit, and has later guided me back to that very place when we’ve been on foot. Much easier to do when he has me on a leash, but hey, I’m getting much better these days at the letting him drive thing!

Before you stop reading, thinking this woman is just plain crazy, I should probably tell you right now that I’ve always had special relationships with the dogs in my life. They come to me in my dreams and let me know their needs in unspoken but unmistakable ways. Rajah may be the closest I’ve felt to any of my dogs, and is my guide in learning animal communication. I’ll share more of our backstory in future posts, along with some of the amazing (and mundane) conversations we have.