From my point of view as an animal communicator, it was a pain!  And I don’t mean that I was picking up Shiloh’s pain.  I wasn't able to talk with Shiloh because of the dread and fear that I was feeling. I isolated myself from experiencing the fear by living in my head, thinking of everything I needed to prepare for the surgery, details that needed to be taken care of, spreading the word, etc.  I couldn’t face my real, deepest fear: what do I do if something goes wrong during the surgery?

I asked Nicole Roberts, Shiloh’s communicator, to speak with him and see what he needed before the surgery.  Both Shiloh’s regular vet and the surgeon told me the surgery was the hardest on the person, not the horse.  According to Shiloh, that was absolutely true.

During the conversation, Shiloh said he was not concerned about the surgical procedure.  He asked that I have professional photos taken of him before the surgery, and he also asked if I would be able to bring my sleeping bag to the hospital to spend the night with him in his stall.  He didn’t want me to worry.

Shiloh arrived at the hospital the night before the surgery with enough grain, hay and treats for an entire herd of horses.  He immediately checked out his stall, and then settled down to eat some hay.  Once I saw he was settled in, I left.  I had to leave, the stress was just too much for me.

I was a nervous wreck the day of the surgery – in fact, I cancelled my lessons and paced around the house, too nervous to leave the house "just in case" I got the dreaded phone call saying that something bad had happened.  I wasn’t even in any condition to trust that a call would come through on my cell phone!

I did get a phone call – everything went very well; Shiloh was in recovery and I could come see him whenever I wanted.  I couldn’t go see him – the pressure was too much for me.  I tried connecting with him intuitively and couldn’t even do that; consequently, I felt guilty because I couldn’t connect with Shiloh.

When I went to pick him up, Shiloh was a trooper.  He walked out and loaded up like he had surgery every day.  During his short stay in the hospital, he had managed to trick the staff into giving him all of his treats, and he had a new  girlfriend--the mare across the aisle from him.

I got him back to the farm and into his stall, where he settled in very nicely and easily, complete with his bandaged face.  I couldn’t stay, I couldn’t breathe, the strain of seeing my beloved horse with his head bandaged was just too much for me.  I went home and had some wine.

So, I’ll bet you’re asking yourself, “What does Shiloh’s story have to do with animal communication?”

Here’s the moral of the story: As animal communicators, we must take care of ourselves first before we can help anyone else.  It’s like on airplanes, when you’re told to put your oxygen mask on first.  It is my job to be as clear a vessel as possible when I’m receiving information from the animals.  When I’m emotionally upset, attached to the outcome, or unbalanced in any way, chances are extremely good the information will be corrupted with my issues.  When that happens, I am of no help to anyone, including myself.

Also, sometimes our own beloved animal companions can be the most difficult to speak with.  That's because we are emotionally bonded with them, and therefore attached to the outcome of the conversation.

If you find yourself in a position where you are unable to intuitively connect with your animal companion, be kind to yourself.  Give yourself the time and space to take care of yourself, and then try again later.  If you are still unable to connect with them and you feel it is important to do so at that time, consult with a professional animal communicator.  Remember, you don’t have to go through this alone.

Harmony,

Janet Roper

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