Even though I talk with the dead, both people and animals, I never once thought about my vet being haunted. I guess because I’m usually there on personal business, meaning one of my animals is ill, and practicality rules: I’m interested in dealing with the illness, not in looking for dead things.
So I was surprised one day a month ago when I was at the vet with my Cavalier King Charles spaniel, Alki. My poor boy and I are both recovering from a vicious dog mauling early in the year. In the aftermath he suddenly developed severe heart disease, lost a lot of weight from stress, suffered extreme pain from being beat up, and his gastrointestinal illness, IBD, is quite severe after being under control for nearly a year.
So we’ve been at the vet a lot in 2014. Still, Alki loves his vet, and doesn’t mind being at the clinic, so I was surprised when we were waiting in the exam room and Alki was acting both distraught and scared. He was whining, pawing at me, and pacing. When the vet came in the room Alki would have nothing to do with him. He sat rigidly beside me, shivering, eyes wide in fright as he stared at his vet and refused to move. No matter what the vet or I tried, Alki refused to have anything to do with him. The vet finally moved us to another room and Alki calmed down, although his heart rate was through the roof and it was several hours before he was completely himself again.
What was wrong with him? I thought back—the only other time Alki was afraid of the vet was the first time we were back in the clinic after my beloved Cavalier, Murphy, died there. That time, too, Alki was nervous and shivering, clearly worried about dying. I talked him through it, which reminded me, yet again, that we need to talk to our animals about what is going on. They do understand us even if we don’t understand them. Alki knew very well that Murphy had died just down the hallway, and I had to reassure him that he was not dying, too.
But a month ago Alki’s fright was a mystery, one I pursued with him that evening in a conversation. It turns out that a big black dog had died in that exam room within the last few weeks and had been roaming the clinic halls as a ghost, and that room in particular, since it had been euthanized. So this ghost dog had literally been standing there yelling at Alki to “Run for it, they kill you here!” After hearing that I could hardly blame Alki for being frightened, and I felt bad for the dog who had died.
Bad enough to do something about it.
How We Helped a Dead Dog Move On
My friend and I sat down together to talk with the dead dog. I asked it, “Were your people with you when you died?” When the dog said yes, I asked it if they were crying. He said yes. I then told the dog that I was sorry they had not explained to him what was happening, but I was sure they were crying because they loved him very much, there was nothing they could do to save his life, and they euthanized him so that he would not suffer any more. I’ve been through enough situations like that with clients to know that it was true, although I didn’t know the exact circumstances.
The dog understood then what had happened to him, and was comforted by the simple knowledge that he was loved and not randomly murdered; instead, he was dying and his family loved him too much to let him to suffer anymore. My friend and I then helped the dog to move on to be with my dad at his Way Station for Dead Things on the Other Side—yes, one of the places the dead go to rest up before moving on to review their lives and choose their next adventure.
The next day when our vet and I discussed Alki’s condition, I told him about the dead dog. He was silent for a moment, then said, “Well, I’ll do know Alki clearly wasn’t himself.” I told him about telling animals what is happening as they prepare for euthanasia, and that he could silently tell the dog in his head and not verbalize it out loud if he didn’t think the family was open to it.
Some people are still not on board with animal communication, including the concept that animals can and do understand us and do have feelings and concerns of their own. Others are, like many Japanese, completely silent on death, and do not even tell human patients that they are dying, a mindset that I simply do not understand, but there it is.
How To Act When Your Vet Is Haunted
So the ghost dog has safely transitioned and I learned a big lesson, which is that someone like me who works as an intuitive is sometimes on the job whether they know it or not. That does not mean we are supposed to be wide open to anything all day long, but when you see a reaction like Alki’s you need to pay attention to what is happening in case there is something that you need to do, or at least can do.
Here’s the thing. Every veterinary clinic is potentially haunted because animals die there, just like people die in hospitals and care facilities, which are also frequently haunted. (Believe me, even self-professed skeptics who work in those places will tell you that they are very aware of ghosts, and will avoid being alone in certain places, even though they don’t like to admit it.)
So what do you do when your vet is haunted?
- Make sure you are well grounded at all times, especially when you first go into your vet’s clinic.
- Explain to your animals that you are going to the clinic with them and why.
- Assure your animals that they will be fine.
- If you are going in for euthanasia, then by all means explain it to your animal, and take someone like me along with you if possible, or at least arrange a consultation so that you and your animal are completely clear about what will occur. For more on what to do in the dying process, consult my article, How the Human-Animal Bond Meets, and Survives, Death.
- Make sure that your vet and vet technicians working with your animals understand and respect the ‘spiritual’ or ‘intuitive’ relationship you have with them by participating in a discussion with you and the animal about what is occurring, why, what will happen, and what it means. Many vets are open to animal communication, and certainly respect the human-animal bond, so if this sounds strange to your vet I suggest you find another one.
- Because you are occupying that veterinary clinic space, you are free to ask the space to be clear and healthy for you and your pets, and use whatever clearing remedy you need, particularly a pinch of sea salt in the room with you, or crystals, or whatever works.
- Suggest to your vet that the clinic hire someone like me who clears traumatized spaces to routinely clear the space and help ghosts move on.
- Make sure to ground and clear yourself after a visit to a place where animals and people die, so you don’t carry that stuck, heavy energy home with you (this is a routine daily care practice for everyone, but here we’re talking specific places).
Of course you can’t force a vet to clear their clinics, but you can clear the space around you, and maintain an open line of communication with your animals. You may not hear them, but they do hear you, so make sure you tell them what’s going on; animals, like people, can easily get confused about a situation, particularly an emotionally intense one like death, and need reassurance and an opportunity to ask questions. I’ve seen enough confused and frightened animals, alive and dead, that are suffering emotionally simply because they don’t understand what is going on. Please don’t do this to your animals, or yourself.
If you don’t do these things, odds are someone like me will meet your deceased animal in a very sad way. At least you hope they will, so they can help your beloveds completely, and safely, transition.
Unfortunately space clearing is not as routine in our society as it could be, so it’s up to you to make sure that when your vet is haunted you aren’t haunted, too.
Have you ever noticed that your vet is haunted? What would you do to make your vet’s clinic a healthier, happier experience for you and your animal family?
© 2014 Robyn M Fritz
It wasn’t. It was me listening to crappy vets—me being away from dogs for a dozen years and overwhelmed by the new world of animal care. It was me agreeing to bad food, repeated vaccinations, paternal dogma, and early spay/neuter.
Remember those conversations I’ve had with people in the last year? I quietly explain to them that I lost my oldest dog to cancer. Their eyes fill up, they express condolences, and then I quietly say, “Did you know that cancer is linked to early spay/neuter?”
Love will lead the way.
Our animal families matter, and so do our kids. Here is Alki, recovering from a severe illness, if you ever recover from inflammatory bowel disease and pancreatitis, let alone long-term kidney disease. We remember that age doesn’t always bring illness, but when it does it also reminds us that we have lived a long life, and we’re still determined to make it a fun one! Here’s Alki reminding Grace that this is HIS get well card, and then wondering why he can’t eat it. Shyness is cute! Thank you to Cyndi O-neill Dady and SendOut Cards!
Yes, we can all tell when one of our animal companions is unwell. They act ‘off’ just like we do, from exhibiting actual pain to being depressed. As an animal communicator, I can also look at animals intuitively and see health issues. When I do this I explain to the people involved exactly what I see and what the animals say and insist they take their animal to a trusted veterinarian to investigate.
I’m always curious about what makes people tick: how do they choose their work in the world, and what does it mean? I’m even more curious when they write a book and I get a chance to review it. 
That alone makes the book worthwhile, but, ever practical, Ranquet next launches into how each of us can learn to communicate with our animals. Here she delves into our mindset, what we experience with telepathy, and how to live what we learn, from our attitudes to the practicalities of health care, including nutrition, vaccinations, and energy medicine (her next big book, on energy healing for animals, is due out this year and will be a game-changer).
We walk by this spot almost every day. It’s our neighborhood in Seattle, a place to enjoy nature in the midst of city life in 21st-century America.
How do we deepen the bond between humans and animals? 
I ended up in the ER on a Sunday evening last month. While I was facing a potentially serious health crisis, there was one thing I didn’t worry about: my dog, Alki, and Grace the Cat were provided for. Sort of. That’s what the human-animal bond, my concept of multi-species families, includes: taking care of them.
