May 9, 2012: Deep Dog Thoughts

Cogito ergo esurio!

Back in the days when I had an office job, I worked with a woman (Michelle?  Chantal?  Quenel?)  who was training to be a pet psychic. Not surprisingly, it wasn’t something she was eager to share with her co-workers and only happened to come out over the course of some tangental discussion.  Something like:

“Hey, somebody stapled my report to the cafeteria wall!”

“The boss’s kids are kind of psycho.”

“I happen to be kind of psychic too.”

“I said psycho, not psychic.”

“Oh.”

“You’re kind of psychic?”

It turns out she was taking courses toward official(?) pet psychic accreditation during her free time – I suppose sometime between her full-time job and building that giant tinfoil pyramid on the roof of her apartment building.

“A lot people don’t believe it which is weird,”she said.  ”If you can believe in a psychic connection between humans and a psychic connection between animals, why is it so hard to believe in a psychic connection between humans and animals?”

I felt as though she’d missed step but, rather than call her on it, I encouraged her to continue by offering a non-committal: “Un huh.”

She smiled broadly, apparently pleased with the fact I hadn’t been judgy, laughed, or immediately reported her to HR as a potential victim of some stress-related anxiety disorder.  ”My teacher is one of Canada’s top pet psychics.  I only have two more classes to go.”  And then, on a more personal note: “I’ve been practicing with my cat, Minou.”

Some twenty years later, I don’t remember her name or her position at the company or even what she looked like (although I remember a lot of beige and a face that never quite synced with that salon curly hair). There were far more memorable former co-workers, but whenever I wonder what became of them all after the company went belly up, she’s the first one that comes to mind first because, unlike the others, she had a marketable skill to fall back on.  I imagine that had she had the foresight to hedge her bets by also pursuing a reiki diploma, she’d be set for life.

Oh, you may laugh, but from what I understand pet psychics do a brisk business.  I’ve personally yet to make use of their services only because I’m already attuned to my dogs’ innermost thoughts.    For instance:

Jelly…

…is saying pay attention to me/play with me…okay feed me.

Bubba…

…is saying pay attention to me/play with me…okay feed me.

And Lulu…

…is saying pay attention to me/play with me…okay feed me.  Also, quit staring at me.  You’re creeping me out.

I have an astounding 96% accuracy rate.

This is not to minimize the fine work of professional pet psychics who use their talents to diagnose personality disorders, locate misplaced chew toys, and help local law-enforcement solve crimes (“Minxy is reaching out from beyond the grave to tell me you the Doberman was set up.  It was the Alaskan Malamute!”).

Still, the few stories I have heard haven’t engendered much confidence in the profession.  My favorite was related to me by another co-worker on a past production. Let’s call him Carl.  Carl has two friends whose dog, George, had begun to demonstrate behavioral changes.  For some reason, rather than assuming the dog had been possessed and calling on the services of a pet exorcist, they jumped to the conclusion it was a psychological issue and contacted a pet psychic instead.  The pet psychic, while highly recommended, lived in another state, but assured them she could perform her scam trick service over the phone.  And so, at the appointed time, they rang her up and presumably held the phone up to George’s face so that she could pick up the doggy vibes. The feedback was immediate.  Something like: “George is feeling down because he feels you’re not paying enough attention to him.  George suffers separation anxiety when you leave the house and he misses you while you’re gone.  He could really use some more TLC…”  In recounting the experience to Carl, George’s owners were amazed at the pet psychic’s ability to pinpoint what was ailing their dog.  For his part, Carl was less than impressed.  ”George a girl.”

I guess psychic energy is genderless.

Yep.  There’s always a good (and if not good, then certainly entertaining) answer to our pointed questions.  It’s like they see ‘em coming.

For instance, back when she’d claimed to have honed her burgeoning psychic abilities on her own lovable Minou, I couldn’t resist asking Michelle/Chantal/Quenel what she’d learned from him.  Had she been able to solve any of the mysteries that have plagued feline owners for centuries.  Why, for instance, don’t they like water?  To this, she nodded knowingly and informed me that she had asked the question, and received the same response her instructor had told her had been echoed by many a furball before him: “It’s a cat thing.”

Tagged: cat thoughts, cats, dog thoughts, Dogs, pet psychics, pet thoughts, what is your pet thinking?