was I, maybe, just maybe, also receiving accurate information from Mister Butch?
My God, this is really happening. I’ve just talked to a rabbit. From his photo.
It was the most miraculous idea: animals can talk and we can hear them.
My body and mind felt in conflict with what I’d experienced during the day and my belief system prior to it. In a daze I drove home, feeling excited, awestruck and completely overwhelmed. I felt that I was sailing out into the ocean without a paddle, surrounded by the deep blue sea. I didn’t know which way I was heading or how far I would travel. I didn’t know how many fathoms of undiscovered secrets lay beneath me. These were unchartered waters. I began to think of how my friends might respond if I were to tell them I’d just had a conversation with a rabbit.
And yet, even though I had this logical fear, I couldn’t help but question my sceptical beliefs. The idea of being able to communicate with animals was changing my perception of reality. It was changing how I viewed animals. If people were to realize they could talk to animals, just think how much happier animals could be. They’d be able to tell us what they wanted and how they felt. If everyone learned to talk to animals – my God, that could change everything. Animals everywhere could be recognized as feeling and thinking creatures who can make their own decisions and form their own relationships. I was getting so excited, but then I had a thought that brought me crashing down to reality: What about all the animals behind bars in zoos? I suddenly felt a heavy weight in the pit of my stomach. And all the animals in shelters with no one to love them and make them feel special – what must they be feeling? My chest heaved and my eyes filled with tears as I thought of cosmetic testing, the fur industry and vivisection.
This discovery didn’t feel quite so delightful anymore. Joy had been replaced by unbearable anguish. And that’s when I realized the journey into animal communication might not be so easy after all. It was coupled with enormous responsibility. The joy of communicating with animals would always go hand in hand with the anguish of how my fellow human beings would treat them. I realized that during my communications with animals, I would hear what they thought and feel what they felt. On the one hand, that would be their loving connection with people. Yet, travelling down the same path, I’d also feel all their suffering: their feelings of sadness, confusion, betrayal and loneliness, even their anger.
In just one day I felt my life had changed and I was looking at the world with fresh eyes.
At home I had the daunting task of telling my partner about the day’s events. How do you tell someone you’ve just been conversing with a rabbit? There are no manuals to advise and I’d be surprised if the answer can be revealed by a web search. And I was still finding it hard to understand what had happened myself.
Jo had made us some tea and we were relaxing in the living-room drinking it when she asked me how the workshop had gone. I laughed nervously.
‘OK,’ I said.
Then there was a palatable silence as I tried to grasp the right words. I just didn’t know how to tell her. I decided the only way forward was just to say it.
‘I think I’ve just been talking to a rabbit. I think I can talk to animals.’
I held my breath, waiting for her reaction.
She looked across at Morgan and raised her eyebrows, then looked back at me and smiled. ‘Well, that’s going to be an interesting hobby,’ she said. Little did she, or I, know at this point that it was going to evolve into something much greater. Then she added, ‘How do you know? Give me proof.’
I told her the details I’d received and that some of them had made sense. I said I didn’t know how it had happened, it just had. I also told her that a complete stranger had talked to Texas and described the colour of our sofa and his favourite lookout post in the garden. How could that be possible?
‘Wow,’ she said, ‘that sounds amazing.’ Then, without a moment’s hesitation, ‘What did the rabbit say?’
I should have known Jo would react positively. She had always loved animals – dogs being her favourite – and I think that connection helps you see there is more to an animal than sit, beg and roll over. Since that moment I have always been supported on my journey into animal communication. I am lucky in that way.
That evening I knelt on the floor in front of Morgan and looked into his deep espresso-coloured eyes. He looked straight back at me and I had the feeling he was saying, ‘So now you know.’ The veil had been lifted and I could see him clearly, not only as a feeling and thinking dog but also with the realization we could connect with each other on this intuitive, heartfelt level for even deeper and clearer understanding.
I now know that animal communication is not so much about talking as listening; it’s about being a receptive vessel. I now realize I’d been subconsciously preparing for this. Over the years I’d been drawn to jobs where it was important to listen. Before I began to communicate with animals I volunteered on a helpline. Every weekend for approximately three months I attended training, culminating in a mock-up practical test at the end. The tutors would only allow you in the phone room if they felt you were ready and once there you received a buddy who would give you one-to-one support and guidance in the first few weeks. After I’d finished working in the theatre in the evening I’d head over to the helpline headquarters and stay up all night manning the phone. The ‘graveyard’ night shift was very unpopular, so I’d often be there on my own. People rang with a whole range of problems, some extremely upsetting, some shocking, some traumatic, and then there were people who just needed to talk to someone who would listen without their own agenda or any judgement.
Looking back now, this provided the groundwork of how it feels to truly listen and I am sure it was one of the building blocks for communicating with animals. And of course I had worked with actors and creative types in the theatre, which meant I had learned to juggle different personalities within a pressured profession where deadlines were absolute.
Sharing my discovery wasn’t easy. I was nervous about telling my friends. I felt awkward saying the words, ‘I’ve discovered I can talk to animals,’ sort of embarrassed, and also scared of how they would respond.
I began by telling two close friends whom I’d known for the longest time. One of them, also called Jo, took a little while to get her head around it, but at the same time felt there was no reason why it shouldn’t be possible. She said, ‘I think when you’ve had a pet you feel really close to, it doesn’t seem such an alien idea that someone would find a way of communicating with animals.’
But my other friend from theatre school, Caroline, went silent on the phone. She still doesn’t understand it.
Dinner parties, and most social events like birthdays and weddings, have since become a great adventure. Sometimes I’ll be asked what I do and I’ll tell someone and the brick wall will immediately come up or their eyes will glaze over or they’ll be speechless. Others might say, ‘Really? Glass of wine?’ then make a hasty retreat, never to return. There are some nights when I’ve received a handful of these types of reactions and I’ve been tempted to tell people I’m a mortician instead, or a fire fighter, or a pole dancer, or even an astronaut. A