animal care — Page 5 — Intuitive and Spiritual Consulting, Past Life Regression

Why MY Dogs Aren’t Spoiled–MY Cat Ain’t, Either

August 3, 2011 by Robyn Fritz

Amazing the number of people who scowl and tell me I’m spoiling my animal family.

It flummoxes me. These people, ‘the complainers,’ don’t just turn up their noses at me and my kids. They’re rude about disapproving of people (like me) who treat our animal family as something more than discardable toys, and in public no less.

I’m spoiling my family? Huh. Actually, I’m taking care of them. Like equals.

My eldest dog is cold a lot, so she wears a fleece jacket, indoors and out, during the cool months (a lot of those in Seattle). My younger dog prefers to be cool. The dogs and cat are safely constrained on car trips. They all get quality food and pure water. Cool toys and treats. Clean groomed bodies and comfy beds (often mine). Love and attention. An interesting, stimulating environment. Consideration for their bodies, their minds, their souls.

‘The complainers’ act like ‘spoiling’ is a dirty word. Like the ‘spoilers’ are guilty of some horrible offense.

Like it’s any of their business. Like they have a clue about how to really behave in the world.

So let me tell you. And them.

Treating everyone, human or animal, respectfully as equals is how the world goes from okay to fabulous. It’s how we create a happy balanced planet.

Starting by really getting it that everyone, and everything, has feelings. We can make others, including animals, happy or fearful by how we treat them.

My animal family gets treated as family, as beings who deserve to be respected, made comfortable and pleased. As equals. So what that they’re not human? What matters is that compassion, consideration, attention, and just plain fun aren’t reserved for humans. That we all have space to be animals, and humans, together. Without judgment.

What matters is that we’ve created a family that works for us, that together we’re safe, nurtured, and loved. That we give each other the best chance to be our best, whatever that is. That we pay attention to each other’s needs and interests. Isn’t that common courtesy? Compassion in action? Respect?

If that’s ‘spoiling,’ then let there be spoiling in a world that badly needs it! Starting with the people who don’t get it!

So you frowners and complainers, I hope you don’t have animals in your household. Or, maybe, other humans. Because when I hear you say ‘spoiled’ it sounds like you’re caught in that loop of wearing hair shirts with your perpetual frowns, of suffering through life instead of enjoying it, of making life miserable because it’s somehow supposed to be. Of disrespecting yourselves while you’re disrespecting others. Of not really caring about anything, or anyone, around you as much as you care about your narrow-minded viewpoint. It’s sad, and pointless.

Does minding my business for me make yours that much easier? I hope not!

At our house, everybody’s equal. We learn new things about each other every day. It isn’t always fun, but it’s always worth it. We try to model our respect and compassion in the world. Even for ‘the complainers.’

My dogs, my cat, they ain’t spoiled. They’re respected.

‘Spoiling’ is a dirty word, the way the complainers use it. So don’t. Try a little respect on yourself. You just might find that ‘spoiling’ is word, and a mindset, you’re better off without. The rest of us sure are.

Grace the Cat’s Tail

July 30, 2011 by Robyn Fritz

We live in a small condo: just me, two Cavalier spaniels (Murphy and Alki), and Grace the Cat. Well, okay, let’s include my crystal partner, Fallon, and Raymond, a fifty-something jade tree who spreads out like an oak.

Yes, our condo is small. Still, it’s plenty of room for my head and Grace the Cat’s tail to be in two separate places at the same time.

So why aren’t they always?

Granted, my animal family and I are close. They all spend time in my lap, and we cuddle as often as we can. But there’s that peculiar cat tail.

Grace lounges on the back of my chair, defying both gravity and my opinion. She’s a small cat (her tail is long, 10 inches long), but she has a distinct knack for putting it in the exact spot of the chair where the back of my head hits. And she won’t move it.

There’s no other place for my head. It belongs in the center of the chair. If I sit straight it’s the only place my head goes. I know, I’ve tried to accommodate Grace’s tail, but I can’t. And won’t.

Yes, I move Grace’s tail out of the way so I can put my head in that spot. But the tail moves. A lot. Even when Grace doesn’t. Her tail will flop on my head, or whack my head, or poke my ear, all while Grace herself is busy pretending she’s busy doing something else. Grace simply doesn’t move, but, then, why should she? Her tail does all the work.

When I get tired of this, I move my head to turn around and complain. You guessed it. When I settle back in, Grace’s tail is back in the spot where my head belongs. We collide.

Is this a weird physics thing? Or plain dumb luck?

Oh, wait, I know! My cat has an attitude. Everybody knows that about cats.

It can’t be me.

When Animal Communication Bites

July 23, 2011 by Robyn Fritz

Have you always wanted to talk with an animal? And hear it talk back?

It’s easy. Just do it. But be polite, or you’ll find out, like I did, that animal communication can bite.

Just like talking with any being out there, from a tree to a hurricane, animal communication is about respecting all life as equals. That means listening to what each being has to say. And being respectful in our interactions.

Sometimes you talk with other beings, like animals, to learn simple things, like what an animal thinks about airplane travel. Or what kind of outing it would like (chasing squirrels, sunbathing, eating pizza have all come up when I’ve asked my dogs what they’d like to do). Quite often my work is talking with other beings about their life’s work, which can be stunning, as it turns out there are jobs out there that most humans can’t even imagine, jobs that other beings, like our dogs and cats, take for granted.

Sometimes when you talk with animals you get what you really haven’t been looking for, like a lesson in good manners. That bites. And it should.

The other day I was looking at my eldest Cavalier, Murphy. She had just turned 13 and was happily munching a birthday blueberry pie. I noticed she was a bit heavy, which isn’t normal for her. She had been eating a lot lately. So had I.

I said, “Wow, Murphy, you’ve gotten a little chunky.”

She promptly shot back, “Well, I’m not as fat as you!” She was loud, annoyed, amused, honest: her usual straightforward self. Oh, and right.

Ouch! Okay then! A lesson in manners from my dog!

The truth is, we seldom treat other people as respectfully as we should. Despite our best intentions, we often offer even less respect to our animal companions. Sometimes we’re just not thinking about what we’re saying or about whose feelings we’re hurting. Sometimes it just doesn’t occur to us to treat our animals as equals who expect politeness, just like we do. Sometimes we just forget good manners between species.

I should know better. Actually, I do.

I apologized to Murphy for being rude and unthinking.

A few days later, I was bathing Grace the Cat, not our favorite household task. I was noticing that Grace had gained weight, and I said, “Grace, you’ve gotten chunky.”

Already annoyed because she was wet and soapy, Grace snarled back: “Didn’t you just learn that lesson from Murphy?”

Ouch again. “Yes,” I said, chagrined. “My apologies.”

Whoever you talk with, but especially when you’re talking between species, mind your manners. If you’re talking, you should be listening. And thinking about what you’re saying before you say it.

Because animal communication can bite.

Have you said something rude to an animal lately? Did you apologize?

When Good Toys Go Bad

July 14, 2011 by Robyn Fritz

Toys are a big part of the magical goofy fun side of family life. In our case, it’s a multi-species family life, which means we are a woman, two Cavaliers, and a goofy eight-pound cat.

At our house toys (practically) rule. We have every kind of toy, from bouncy tennis balls and rubber chews to plush stuffed creatures, velvety soft pull toys, and feathers on sticks, everything we could possibly want.

For good reason.

Toys mean play, and play helps humans and animals relate to each other, from learning what each of us likes to bonding. The family that plays together grows together, and has fun in the process.

My family plays all the time. The cat loves the dog toys, the dogs would love the cat toys if they dared, and the woman likes them all.

Or did.

Who knew there’d be a creepy toy?

This one was a hard plastic ball that talks. My boy dog, Alki, loved it. The ball would roll across the floor and yell and make noise, and Alki would give chase, barking and fetching. All cool, until you actually heard what the ball was saying.

“I’m gonna get you!” it yelled.

Just like that a good toy, or a good toy idea, went bad. From possibly annoying, like drum sets for kids, to creepy. Violent. Sadistic. Scary.

How hard is it to make a talking toy that says, “Hey there, buddy, let’s play!”

Especially when you wake in the middle of the night and hear a loud scratchy voice yelling, “I’m gonna get you!” Yes, creepy toy short-circuited and was yelling without being moved. While we were all trying to sleep.

There’s nothing fun or amusing about that.

I tossed the toy in the garbage and we all went back to bed. The next day I could hear it yelling, intermittently, as I carried the bag to the garbage. Right before I dropped it in, it yelled, “Oh, no! Arghh!”

Indeed.

Now I have one more thing to think about when I buy a toy for my family. Sure, always thinking about safe and durable. Now I also look at the creepy factor. Surprising what makes the list. Sad how few options there are out there.

What are yours?

We’re Cat’s Eye Writer’s First Guest Writer

July 13, 2011 by Robyn Fritz

I was Cat’s Eye Writer’s first guest poster!

Judy Dunn is Cat’s Eye Writer. Back in June she ran a contest looking for her first guest poster. I decided to join in the fun and won, even though Judy writes about blogging (and she’s an expert, so check her out). It was a great experience for me, an opportunity to expand the reach of my emerging magazine, Bridging the Paradigms, and also to simply connect with people who value both their animal families and the possibilities of looking at the world in a slightly tweaked way.

It was also fun, and that’s something we go for as frequently as possible here at Alchemy West. Unfortunately, a lot of not so fun things interfered with me getting this post up: the little things like major computer failure followed by the domino effect (don’t ask how many things can go wrong at once, it might come your way, and you don’t want that). But we are at last back to work!

Bridging the Paradigms is about creating community with all life, from our animals to our homes, businesses, and the land around us.

As I continue to build community through my work, I am thrilled to meet people like Judy Dunn: smart, talented, honest, and community-minded. That makes Judy and her business one of “The Likables”: people and businesses who make a difference in the world by being the best they can be, and create community by example.

Judy Dunn is a blogger, content marketing specialist and author of “The Guide to Showing Up Online.” Her blog, Cat’s Eye Writer, is on the alltop.com list of best blogs and a winner of a 2011 Top 10 Blogs for Writers. She writes there about how people can attract more online visitors with compelling copy, a true voice and smart social media strategies. Follow her on Twitter at @CatsEyeWriter.

So check out my post at Judy’s blog on creating rituals with animals.

And then check out the following week, where Judy hosted three other writers. And then, well, keep up with what Judy’s writing about. It works.

Thank you, Judy!

What Do Animal Communicators Really Do?

June 16, 2011 by Robyn Fritz

There are so many people doing animal communication that they’ve begun to specialize. I don’t do animal communication exclusively. I communicate with all life, from animals to businesses, homes, and nature, including wild/domestic land and weather systems.

Essentially, animal communicators help us telepathically connect with animals, by hearing or seeing them or experiencing their feelings. I use whatever telepathic line works for a particular family or animal, including intuition.

Working with Families

I work with families to deepen their relationships with animals by creating multi-species families with them. And I work with wild animals as well, because two of the beings I work with at Alchemy West are deceased wild animals (Raymond the bear and Ralph the deer). Family conversations cover the gamut, from fun and inspiring family harmony sessions to easing transitions.

Looking at Medical and Behavior Issues
I’ve certainly learned a lot about animal health and behavioral issues over the years. I can help people look at these issues and give you some ideas to take to your vet for further exploration. I also recommend reading a lot and working closely with a trusted vet and animal behaviorist. I listen closely to both animals and people. Because we don’t always hear our animals as clearly as we would like, I tend to address what the animal would like its family to know.

For example, if you think your cat is peeing in the house, clean it up and consider things like cleanliness and medical issues that require veterinary care. You might want me to ask the cat about why it’s peeing, but your cat may really want to discuss something else. I will focus on what the cat has to say. Why? Because I can hear it, and that’s really why you came to me in the first place. Or to anyone who works as an animal communicator. Hearing what your animals really want to say to you can make a huge difference on family dynamics.

Helping Lost Animals Find Home

I also help find lost animals, which does not always mean they come home like we would wish. Sometimes they move on to other families, by choice or by accident. Sometimes they die. Sometimes we never find out.

One time it took me six days to get a lost dog to decide whether she was going to submit to animal control and come home. She had bitten an animal control officer and had run off. It was the officer’s fault, not hers, and it took me a long time to get her to understand, and believe, that she was not in trouble. But we had another complication: she was lost in deep snow and her life was at stake.

She wouldn’t talk with me but I knew she could hear me. So I told her how to stay safe while she decided whether to come home. I could also see and describe the place she was hiding, so I also told her I was telling the searchers where to look, because she was loved, wanted, and literally too upset to think straight. I don’t generally interfere in an animal’s choice like that; in this case, I knew she was listening and wanted to come home but wasn’t sure if she could, or would. So I pushed the issue a bit.

The searchers did find her hiding spot exactly as I saw it, but she ran when they saw her, even though she listened to me when I told her to show herself, and where.

By this time I had no doubts that we had a frightened dog who wanted to come home but was too afraid to go to the people who were trying to help her. What else could I do?

The weather made up my mind for me. Another snowstorm moved into the area, one I knew she had little chance of surviving. Even though it had been six days and she had not spoken to me, I told her it was “do or die,” she simply had to choose. Come home or die.

Her response? “I want chicken,” she declared. “Chicken McNuggets.”

When you hear something bizarre like that, you have to know you actually did hear it. What a unique idea for a McDonald’s’ ad!

“I don’t bargain,” I said, trying not to laugh. “But I will tell your people that you want Chicken McNuggets.”

Shortly after that she quietly surrendered to animal control. And, sure enough, there was a McDonald’s nearby. The lost dog was happily reunited with her family. And on the way home they loaded up on Chicken McNuggets.

The thing I take away from this is that we all need to be patient and persistent. And to listen to what our animals have to say. We compromise to be in families. That’s just how it is. In working with families and lost animals, the discussion about what is going on and why is often a part of it.

Whether you’re convinced that animal communication is real or not, what one question would you ask a favorite animal? And what do you think it would say?

Cool Things We Need to Know

April 15, 2011 by Robyn Fritz

This week we’ve all heard how incompetent we are: according to the media, none of us pee enough or understand that nuclear power was idiotic to begin with. Some of us do and did. That includes me. How about you?

While you’re thinking about it, here’s something to like: check out “Field Study Stars Rock the Animal World“ at MSNBC.com. We have bald eagles, raccoons, all kinds of wild critters, including river otters (I swear one tried to trip me and the dogs the night we were trying to find the Super Moon, which is why you’d never find any member of my family trying to find any of these animal rock stars in the wild, or anywhere else, we are simply not competent).

One thing I am good at is getting my wonderful neighbor, Danny L. McMillin, to send me cool photos for my sites. Here’s an eagle, looking at you!

Welcome to spring (maybe)!

We Mean Dog Business at The Cantankerous Dog Lover

January 11, 2011 by Robyn Fritz

I’ve fired a lot of vets in the 12-1/2 years since I welcomed animals back into my life. Sometimes I think there isn’t a vet left in Seattle that I’ll talk to, let alone pay to take care of my kids.

That makes me The Cantankerous Dog Lover, standing up for better, more common sense relationships between vets, professional animal services providers, our multi-species families, and our culture. What works, what doesn’t, and why? How can we come together and create a compassionate, interdisciplinary multi-species community in our fast-paced, complex world?

Okay, clarification for those who think I’m cantankerous just to be … cantankery. We have some great vets in Seattle, and I use them. But our favorite is in Port Hadlock (on a good day it’s a 5-1/2 hour round trip via ferry and car), with backup from an emergency clinic and an acupuncturist/herbalist each 30 minutes away.

But that’s beside the point. For now.

The point is that my vets are my partners, not my bosses.

This, surprisingly, rules out a lot of them, just like that. Past time for that to stop.

I think vets trying to be in charge is cultural, affected by the exclusivity of specialty training (like most professions) and larger societal preconceptions. I think veterinary medicine is donkey years behind human medicine in how it treats its clients (but human medicine is only an ooch better, a real concern for all of us). Like specialists, vets are locked into a patriarchal structure where ‘father knows best.’ Surprisingly, the vets I’ve seen who are the worst about this have been female. Shocking, isn’t it? Shouldn’t women who have risen to the think about their cultural preconceptions? Or do the barriers they face create more?

This is a topic that covers a huge territory, which we’ll be doing here.

But for now, this is what I know.

I’m a pharmacist’s daughter. I worked with my dad in his store from age 12 through college. We were in a small farming community, so the first thing my dad taught me was that the farmers wouldn’t come in from their fields to go to the doctor. They’d come to my dad at the end of the day for supplies, and my job was to calmly look at a gaping wound and efficiently gather the things they needed to clean, treat, and bandage themselves until they could get to the doctor.

I learned the common sense things we sometimes don’t get when we treat our animals, because emotions and money and balance and species and what’s just plain right get confused. I learned the simple first aid things we can also use on our dogs, and I have (from upset tummies to cuts).

My dad believed in drugs, in Western medicine. But he also believed in vitamins and healthy eating. Today he’d be a compounding pharmacist with an herbalist’s bent.

I believe in drugs, too, when necessary, and at our house we use a combination of prescription, over-the-counter, herbal, and homeopathic remedies. I’m also a professional intuitive, so I can (sometimes) look at things and see how they work. I will always be grateful that, on a Sunday afternoon when my eldest dog was suddenly contorted in pain, I spread everything I had out on the counter, closed my eyes, asked for the best help, and picked a bottle of leftover Rimadyl. And no, I don’t do this for other people.

We keep Traumeel at our house, and it works, too. And we do massage, and chiropractic, and PT, and energy work, and anything else that makes sense and that experimentation proves works.

I believe in what works, and I keep finding out what does. And doesn’t.

I believe in science. When I was 9 my 14-year-old brother, Randy, was dying of leukemia. There was no hope for him, and my parents, shocked and grieving, agreed to one thing that proved both how brave and humane they were. They allowed the use of an experimental drug, hoping that some day it would help other people.

We buried Randy a few weeks later.

Fifteen or more years later, a friend developed leukemia, and lived. Years later, my dad developed rheumatoid arthritis, and they had a drug that helped him. Today that drug is helping a close friend with rhuematoid.

The drug is methotrexate. It was the drug they experimented with on Randy.

There are consequences to our actions. Methotrexate is one of them. I am proud of my family’s contribution to that research, and grateful that it has helped people I care about. And thousands, perhaps millions, more I will never know.

I am also a DES baby. My mother took diethylstilbestrol when she was pregnant with me and my brother, to help with morning sickness. Years later they learned the horrible things that DES could do to babies, something my mother felt guilty about until she died. My brother is fine. I had rare congenital reproductive health issues traced directly to DES, and had multiple surgeries, not children. Those DES babies like me who are still alive have uncertain futures, which everyone has, but ours are complicated by a bad drug. Period.

And, finally, I’ve been physically handicapped for over 20 years, after failed foot surgery. What happened then, and next, changed my life.

So did a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel who came to live with me in 1998. Murphy had so many issues that people told me to ‘get rid of her and get a real dog.’ When she was 2. I didn’t. I researched, I gave her opportunities, I experimented, and together we both got well, in ways I never expected. Today, Murphy is healthy, happy, a bit arthritis, and heart clear at 12-1/2. And there’s another healthy, heart clear Cavalier, my tri boy, Alki, who’s 9. And Grace the Cat, healthy and goofy at 7-1/2.

My multi-species family is thriving because I took charge of their care, and because I listened to professionals who knew what they were talking (or writing) about, from vets to holistic care providers. And because I resisted recommendations that didn’t make sense to me. But the things I have to keep learning to save us are astounding. The average person can’t learn that much about caring for a dog, and shouldn’t have to. It seems that all our amazing technological achievements have simply made life more complex, more difficult to live. Why is that?

I hope we can change that by talking about what we want and what it looks like in community. With our vets and all the other providers who really do care and want to be part of a team. Our team as families.

So here’s a long way of explaining how I became The Cantankerous Dog Lover. Really, so you don’t have to. Here are some of the things we’ll explore through the best medium out there: storytelling.

What happens in our multi-species families, what do we do, what we think
Common sense in veterinary care
How high tech helps—and hinders
Alternative care: supplements, holistic care, energy work, animal communication
What makes sense when, and why
How we establish a great partnership with our vets
How we explore alternatives
How we establish boundaries
How culture affects care, and what we can do
How we live with uncertainty
How we help our dogs live graceful old ages

So, to start. Our vets matter. What is your single best experience with a vet? Keep it short. What happened, and what do you think now?