Читать книгу Heart to Heart - Pea Horsley - Страница 20

Another early practice case was with a cat called Bluesy. She is a tiny caramel and chocolate swirled feline who rules over the home of Lynn and Sandra and a 66lb golden retriever called Saffie. Those who know her well may feel there is a leopard inside this tiny fragile body – her spirit is strong and her green-tea eyes cut into you with a no-nonsense ‘Don’t mess with me’ stare. This formidable character rules supreme from her throne room on the first floor at the rear of the house overlooking the garden. This is ‘Bluesy’s room’ and her throne is an old armchair in the corner. Bluesy is very particular about her space, disliking changes, but is generous enough to allow her large Goldilocks companion to occupy the floor nearby.

At the start of this story I was chummier with Saffie, who brought her two human companions along to join Morgan and me on treks around the common. Lynn is in her fifth decade and the fittest woman I know. Under her baggy clothing she disguises muscle tone any woman, or man, would die for and has unquestionable strength. Sandra is a little bit younger, with neat blonde bobbed hair and a caring nature. Both women are successful in their individual careers within the NHS.

One day we were all walking together when Lynn and Sandra told me their news: the vet had diagnosed Bluesy with a small growth in one of her kidneys and she had transformed from the bossy boots of the house into a quiet skin and bones waif. The veterinary diagnosis had arrived: ‘If you wish to know what type of tumour it is, we will need to investigate, but we need to consider the worst.’

Lynn and Sandra were devastated, trying to come to terms with the notion of losing their 16-year-old tour de force. They decided not to put Bluesy through any investigations, given her age.

I was still only practising animal communication at this point, but when I offered my help, Lynn and Sandra were keen to know whether there was anything Bluesy needed to make her more comfortable.

When I connected with Bluesy, distantly, linking in through her photo, I heard a strong, clear voice. She was keen to be heard. Even though her body was weak, her spirit was as strong and as acerbic as ever. She wasn’t interested in talking about the colour of her chair or how she felt about any treatment, she wanted to get her shopping list together. Bluesy had demands.

One of the first images I received from her was of a pad on a chair. Then I felt a warm sensation in my own body and she said, just in case the ‘stupid human’ hadn’t got the message: ‘Heat pad.’

I met up with Lynn and Sandra in our favourite pub and, nervously over a pint, began to read back the information from Bluesy in my notepad. I had only discovered animal communication a couple of months earlier, so this was very early on in my experience. I described Bluesy’s character traits and they agreed I had her spot on. I described her room and favourite chair, which I didn’t know anything about, her status in the house and her relationship with Saffie and each of them. Then I went on to share the two pieces of information Bluesy really wanted to get across.

‘She says she wants a heat pad,’ I offered. ‘She pictured a pad on her seat and I felt the sensation of warmth. She’s cold and would like more warmth.’

‘Yes,’ responded Lynn, in a very matter-of-fact way. ‘We’ve been talking about getting her a heat pad.’

‘That’s amazing,’ said Sandra. We were talking about it only the other day. She’s so small and fragile now; we’ve been worried she might be cold. Well, we’ll get her a heat pad. If that’s what Bluesy wants then that’s what she will have.

‘She’s asking for one more thing,’ I continued, confident now that they were happy to follow Bluesy’s wishes. ‘She would like fresh food. She pictured chicken and I tasted tuna too. She’s fed up with dry food and wants a change.’

‘OK, all right. Full of demands, isn’t she?!’ said Sandra.

Straight away Bluesy was given her heat pad and from first thing in the morning to last thing in the evening, as well as all through the night, she stayed on it, except for the odd trip downstairs for food and a comfort break in the garden. It was a British winter and the weather was miserable and cold.

It was a week or so later that I heard the whole story. It turned out that the heat pad had arrived really quickly, but the food change hadn’t materialized straight away. So Bluesy had taken things into her own four paws and gone on hunger strike. She had refused to eat anything put in front of her. Until the tuna arrived, followed swiftly by the chicken.

Since that day Bluesy has eaten with an appetite of which a horse would be proud. She is regularly cooked fresh chicken and every day it disappears into her belly. It has been over five years since her fated prognosis and she has blossomed into a beauty, with lustrous fur you constantly wish to run your hands through. Not that you would dare. Her vet is still able to feel the lump and it is slowly getting bigger, yet, as the vet confirms, ‘It doesn’t seem to bother her.’ Bluesy is full of herself: lording over her servants, screeching commands as she parades around her palace, sometimes during the early hours of the morning. She comes and goes as she pleases and bags the best spot on the sofa every time. She now has two feeding stations and receives room service daily. She is in command and deliriously happy. While life is this good, why would you want to leave? Bluesy is now 21 years old and still in power.