In 1998, a litter of Australian Shepherd puppies was conceived two weeks before I had to put down my beloved retired racing greyhound Sultan due to osteosarcoma (bone cancer). I was a friend of the breeder and always admired her Australian Shepherd, Kai, and the puppies she produced from previous litters. My friend was an accomplished animal communicator. She communicated telepathically with animals and had a thriving professional practice. At this point, I, too, had taken a number of seminars on the practice. I was at the beginning of my own animal communication work and did not realize that these skills would become paramount in my life as the tragedy of losing Sultan unfolded.

 

The week before I put Sultan down I had an encounter with Kai and Sultan. My friend watched Sultan when I was working on the days I would transport him after work to an acupuncturist veterinarian for treatment to ease his cancer pain. My friend was not at home on one particular afternoon when I went to pick up Sultan up. I went into my friend’s kitchen and Sultan was lying comfortably in a dog crate. Kai came down the stairs and greeted me. I let Sultan out of his crate. There was a flash of understanding that moved between Sultan, Kai and me.

I knew at that moment that Sultan would soon be leaving me and that Kai would be responsible for helping him come back to me. The following week Sultan’s condition escalated to the point where, with much sadness and grief, I had to put him to sleep. A few days after his departure, I received a message from Sultan. “Look to Kai’s litter and I will be there. I will be a mismarked, male, blue merle Aussie, in birth order position number four or six and will be born at the end of March.”

“Oh boy,” I thought to myself, “something miraculous is happening here.” March 28th I awoke at about 2 a.m. with the message ringing in my head, “I am here.” I received a phone call from Kai’s owner at 3:00 a.m. “Lori, puppy number four has arrived. It is a blue-merle boy and he appears to have no color on one side of his head.” My new puppy “Magi” was the only blue merle boy in the litter of six that Kai had given birth to. The odds of this happening and the way it happened were too astonishing to ignore.

Magi’s registered name was Willowbee’s Corner of the Sky. His call name, Magi, came from the O’Henry Story, “The Gift of the Magi.” It was truly Christmas in March when he was born. His conception and birth were magical. I was truly blessed because without animal communication, I most likely would not have thought about acquiring Magi and I would not have had an experience that helped me heal from the loss of losing my beloved greyhound. This ability had many other gifts and learning, as well. I see this very clearly now, but in my youth and early adulthood none of that was apparent yet.

I was born in 1962, the first of two girls my parents would have. My sister and I grew up in the classic American family. My mother stayed home to raise my sister and me, and my father worked two jobs for many years to provide for us. We were a blue collar household. My mother graduated from high school and my father dropped out of school in the eighth grade. We never had much money, but the love we had as a family was rich and beautiful.

My father was responsible for my great love of animals, dogs in particular. I did not own my own dog until I was twelve years old, but I was blessed with neighborhood dogs that would visit me every day.

I graduated from high school in 1980 and began going to Western Connecticut State University where I was enrolled as a psychology major. In 1982, I had a bicycle accident and lost my hearing. I have worn hearing aids ever since. After losing my hearing I was more interested in the “real world” and became more and more eager to find out “what was out there” rather than staying in school. I dropped out of college in 1984 and did not resume my college career until I enrolled with the University of Massachusetts, Amherst’s University without Walls program 30 years later.

After leaving university, I worked full time in a variety of jobs finally obtaining a position with the Connecticut Department of Transportation Construction Unit in 1987 as a computer trainer and data section supervisor. I worked there until September of 2002 when I left state service as I entered my second marriage and moved to Massachusetts.

It was during those years of working for the state of Connecticut that I developed an interest in retired racing greyhounds as pets. I adopted my first greyhound Sultan in 1991. I was actively involved with greyhound rescue for over fifteen years. I was on the board of directors for a local greyhound rescue group, wrote for their newsletter and a national greyhound publication, placed greyhounds in adoptive homes and was the public awareness chairperson for my local group. My adoption of Sultan is what led me to a deeper interest of both my own spirituality and being able to work with Sultan and other animals on a deeper level. Utilizing animal communication skills, I was able to support greyhound owners and their adopted dogs. This led to my own animal communication practice.

Since the dawn of the time, we have looked to nature as a way of understanding our world. Many cultures believed animals to be guides and teachers (Walsh, 1990, p.125). In the Native American tradition, animals like the Bear, the Wolf, the Raven were all believed to have special medicine” (anything that improves one’s connection to the Great Mystery and to all life) (Walsh, 1990, p. 125).

 

The retired racing greyhound as my guide set the pace for that learning. My greyhounds helped me glimpse into this magical way of viewing our world with its connections to ancient cultures. The greyhound, the lion and the he-goat are mentioned by Solomon in his Proverbs in Holy Bible in Chapter XXX, Vol. 30, “as three things which ‘go well’” (Branigan, 1997. p. 23). Greyhounds moved with humankind to Greece, and on to England continuing the tradition of being an expert hunter (Branigan, 1997, p. 25). When the value of hunting became less of a boon, the greyhound became the poor man’s racehorse (Branigan, 1997, p. 32). Researching this breed also helped me learn how to be adaptable and move from place to place and retain my integrity wherever I may go.

Greyhounds taught me about when to move and when to relax. Who better to teach me than the “sprinter” of the dog world (Branigan, 1997, p. 15)? I realized that when great amounts of energy are expended, time must be taken to recharge our batteries.

Greyhounds are hunters classified as sight hounds. They are one of the few types of dog that will complete the entire task of hunting. They chase down the game, kill it, and return it to their handlers (Branigan, 1997, p. 31). This trait is an example of how we can learn to complete entire tasks rather than merely fulfilling a small role or procrastinating. This “doing it all” attitude can help us live our lives in a “gestalt” as well. They taught me how to stand still, survey the landscape, and see movement from a distance. Imitation of this trait can give me the ability to see opportunities that others may not see because they are moving too fast. I should have also used it to “see” trouble coming and take the proper steps to avoid it or lessen its effects. Unfortunately, this is not the way the past ten years of my life turned out.

Greyhounds can teach me about the physical body having no real basis on winning ability. Most track greyhound breeders do not breed for conformation (Branigan, 1997, p. 34). Perhaps they should but they do not in most cases. The greyhound’s ability to win comes from its heart and its “WILL” to win. I always kept this in the back of my mind even during my darkest days.

Through greyhounds, I began to grasp the concept of healing for myself and others but this was only a tiny ember for many years. When I reached out to help retired racers find homes I was transformed into a healer for them. Retired racers who are not fast enough or who are injured can sometimes face being put to sleep at a very early age of two or three years old in some cases because they are not useful as racers. Retired greyhound rescue addresses this problem by placing dogs in qualified homes (Branigan, 1997, p. 38.).

Greyhounds taught me about love and forgiveness. In spite of what happens sometimes to them after their racing careers, they become wonderful family pets. It is the nature of these dogs to give until their hearts run out. This loyalty and devotion give me hope for humanity. I learned all of these things from this noble breed, but I did not listen at the time. Magi’s coming into my life I believe was supposed to set the stage for my next phase in life. I did not listen to him or what the Australian Shepherd was supposed to teach me at the time.

Magi came with me into my second marriage. He passed away prematurely in 2006 at the age of eight. He had a bad reaction to a dog worming medication. When he passed I felt the “magic” was truly gone from my life. It really had disappeared and I was empty with no soul to speak of at the time. I just went through the motions of living in spite of having other dogs to console me. It just wasn’t “right” without Magi.

In 2011, I left the relationship that cost me dearly. I was too afraid to take any of the dogs that I owned at the time. Anything that provoked my (soon to be) ex-husband to anger I tried to avoid at all costs. In spite of his treatment of me, I knew he would treat the dogs well and not harm them in any way. It was still a heart wrenching decision for me I was naked without a dog. I believe many long-time dog people would feel the same way. It was because of the owner of the kennel, Honor, where I worked as a groomer/kennel technician that my companion in healing came to me.

A two year old red merle female Australian Shepherd came to the kennel where I work to board. She was there waiting to be bred to my boss’s Aussie Caleb. Caleb was a Hall of Fame Sire and a Grand Champion of his breed (ASCA) officially known as GCH Harmony Hill’s He is All That. The little red merle bitch was actually from the same kennel as well, but her bloodlines were different. The breeding did not take and Harmony Hill’s Melt My Heart went back to the kennel in Harwinton. My boss and dearest friend realized how lost I was without a canine companion. She told Heather Braddock the Harmony Hill’s kennel owner, about my dilemma. Heather in turn decided Heart and I needed each other. She called and offered “Heart” to me.

Two weeks after “Heart” went back to the kennel I met Heather at a local restaurant and this little Aussie whose call name was “Heart” became “Cheyenne” and became the dog of my heart. Cheyenne’s name means “Red Speak” in the Lakota Sioux language. I did not know this until after I renamed her. This name is very appropriate since she is a red merle. Cheyenne is distantly related to Magi. He was her great great uncle on her sire’s side. His mother Kai came from the same kennel, Harmony Hill. Magi’s father lived at Harmony Hill. So now my little Aussie girl and I will be together until she passes over to the other side. Magic is back in my life in the form of a dog who is teaching me every day.

The Australian Shepherd as a breed is beginning to teach me the lessons I should have learned from Magi. Aussies are herding dogs and are very much companion dogs. The Aussie is teaching me to gather my resources and skills (as a herding dog gathers up a flock of sheep) and to work in partnership with others. This is very different from the lesson I learned from greyhounds. I am sure as time goes along I will learn even more. I just lucky I have a wonderful dog to share my earth walk with as I move forward in life. I am right where I am supposed to be albeit a little older and wiser than I was before. Cheyenne helped me put back the “magic” in my life by being who she is a happy, joyful, overindulged princess who has her mommy wrapped around her little paw.

 

Resources

Branigan, C. (1997). The Reign of the Greyhound. New York: Howell Book House

Erdoes, R. & Ortiz A. (1984). American Indian myths and legends. New York: Random House

Smoley, R., & Kinney, J. (1999). Hidden wisdom: A guide to western inner traditions. New York: Penguin

Walsh R. MD, Ph.D. (1990). The spirit of shamanism. (1st ed. Ed). New York: St. Martin’s Press