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Thursday November 4, 2004: Psychic Dogs and Cats

           I grew up having dogs as pets and am surprised to discover how much I've turned into a cat person.  My kids keep asking if they can get me a dog, but the idea is no longer tempting. It would not be fair for a dog to be left on its own for so much of the day. Cats fit my schedule, allowing me the freedom to stay late after work to meet with friends or to explore the options of Ann Arbor (much larger than the little village I live in), or to come home and head straight to the computer. Cats allow me the freedom to take off for a long weekend with no more effort than putting out extra food, water, and litter.

            I do notice major differences.  Many people believe dogs and cats are psychic (I've heard more stories of psychic dogs than psychic cats). Considering that some people can't even accept psychic awareness in people, the idea of psychic pets may seem even farther fetched, but yet the idea has merit.

          I'm not ready to give credit in some areas.  The idea that some dogs can tell when their owner is about to have an epileptic fit seems to be due to changes in the owner's body chemistry and a dog's keen sense of smell.  Some people pay close attention the family pet's reaction to strangers, but I suspect reactions from the pet are based on non-verbal clues and smells. Our dogs always knew when a tornado was coming, long before the sirens went off.  However, with time I also learned to tell when the weather felt right for tornadoes, so that can be written off as sensory perceptions.

           It's harder to write off a dog that knows when its master's plane touches ground. I tend to be interested in owners who are psychic themselves, because then pets and their reactions can take on new significance.

           I went through a lot of psychic impressions when I was a child, and since my childhood masters found a way to keep me from talking about my experiences with parents or friends, I grew unsure if the images were being created solely within my mind.  About age eight, I was out walking the dog when I noticed a strange shape coming down the street.  I kept trying to convince myself that I was seeing wind because of the way it moved the tree tops, and because the shape was not physically visible. Yet I could see a definite psychic shape. The rustling of trees was limited to a very narrow area, only corresponding to the shape's movement. Perhaps the most disturbing part was how slowly the shape moved down the street. Yes, in retrospect it could have been the wind, but I've never seen any wind move so slowly, nor so selectively move without disturbing any leaves before or after a small center of activity. 

          I glanced back at the dog, who was whining, pacing frantically back and forth; she was unwilling to leave me and yet obviously wanted to get far away from the approaching danger. That's when it hit me -- the dog was tracking the progress of the same phenomena. Together we watched the shape pass us, disappearing down the street. The dog settled down, and the hair on the back of my neck relaxed. We were never in real danger. For me, it was turning point --a reassurance that what I was seeing actually existed in the outer world and not simply in my imagination.

       Amy, another spontaneous psychic, once took her dog out for a walk and was puzzled over the dog's strange and uncharacteristic behavior. It refused to heel or even walk on her left side as trained. The dog was obviously nervous and upset, and Amy was unable to coax or force the dog to obey its prior conditioning. Suddenly, from the corner of her eye, she caught a white blur coming down at her from above one shoulder.  She ducked to one side, then turned, seeing nothing of the white shape.  Still, she watched in amazement as her dog repeatedly leapt into the air, growling, barking, snapping, and defending her from some invisible form. After a heated battle (oh my gosh, thought Amy, what would neighbors think to be seeing my dog jumping at empty air?) the dog settled down, coming back to sit quietly beside her, alert and content.  Amy was still a bit upset and turned to go back to the house, calling the dog to heal. The dog immediately swung over to the proper side and walked beside her all the way home.

         My point is that dogs are more willing to stick around their masters.  Cats may also be psychic; I know people talk about them seeing things that aren't visible to anyone else.  Whenever I've seen my cats staring intently at the ceiling, I psychically scan the area of their interest. So far, I've never picked up a psychic form or entity.  That's not to say cats can't be psychic, but I suspect if an entity was in the house, a cat would quickly disappear to a safe hiding place.  

         That's the trade-off.  A dog is willing to protect and defend you but requires more time and energy, is more emotionally dependent on human companionship. A cat -- well, a cat looks after itself.  A cat expects you to look after its needs and allows you to show it affection. I can love the independence of cats, and I do have affectionate cats. I've just learned not to expect too much -- especially protection from things that go bump in the night.


Posted on Thursday, November 4, 2004 at 10:49AM by Registered CommenterThe Skeptical Mystic | CommentsPost a Comment

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