Later that same day, a man attending the workshop, who was psychic, approached me; he wasn’t aware of the conversation I’d had with the woman earlier.
“As you were talking about June,” he began, “a very powerful image came to me. While looking at you, I saw a small male dog with long, floppy ears. June will be coming back to you as a dog, and you can call her—or rather,
him
—
Junior!”
He smiled through sincere eyes. I smiled back, not sure what to say.
What a sweet man,
I thought to myself.
He probably thinks that the promise of a new puppy will comfort me. He doesn’t realize that I could never love another animal. I’m June’s devoted person, and now that she’s gone, well, that’s that.
I was skeptical about his vision, but I didn’t let on, not wanting to hurt his feelings.
Never before had this idea of animal reincarnation occurred to me, and yet, there it was, twice in one day. It’s been my experience that whenever something comes up twice in a row like that, there’s a significant reason. I wondered what the reason was. Still, I was skeptical and tried my best to get on with life.
The next day, the woman who had approached me before did so again. She told me she’d been thinking about me and got the very strong impression that I was supposed to be doing something important involving animals. She felt guided to share this with me. I felt my life moving in a whole new direction. And I had thought I was just there to cry.
I called and left messages for all of June’s animal communicators to let them know that she had died. Somehow, telling people about her death helped me to deal with the grief. It helped me to feel that I was not alone in the experience and that people cared. I didn’t tell
anyone
what I’d recently heard about the afterlife or about June coming back. I thought they’d think I was crazy, and besides, I didn’t believe it myself.
Shortly thereafter, several of the animal communicators left messages on my answering machine, telling me that June had said she’d be coming back to me, but that it would be a while and she wouldn’t be a rat when she returned. For the first time, I felt a glimmer of hope about the possibility of June’s return; but I was still very skeptical, and I wondered to myself,
Why not a rat?
One day I was feeling particularly depressed and lost, and I was becoming doubtful that there even
was
an afterlife. I didn’t know where else to turn, so I made an appointment with a professional animal communicator I had never worked with before. I had read that this particular communicator, Gail De Sciose, specialized in communicating with the spirits of deceased animals. I missed June immensely and needed some kind of reassurance that she still existed
somewhere
. I didn’t let Gail know that I’d spoken with anyone else, nor did I tell her anything I had heard about June coming back to me.
“June tells me she’ll be coming back to you,” she began, “but not as a rat next time.”
Why not a rat?
I wondered again. I didn’t say a word. She continued.
“She’s coming back as a dog. A small male dog. It won’t be right away, but when the time is right, June will be back.”
I was blown away. I had that certain goosebumpy feeling you get when something extraordinary is taking place. Nevertheless, the skeptic in me asked for proof that we’d really contacted June. I wanted June to tell me something only she and I would know.
She then told the story of a small white stuffed animal that she had been jealous of at first, until she realized it wasn’t real. I didn’t know what she was talking about, but then I recalled the harp seal incident, which
no one
else could have known about. I hadn’t told a soul. I then realized that something was truly going on.
Still missing June, and not quite sure what to make of the dog idea, I called yet another animal communicator, again not letting her know I’d called or spoken with anyone else. She proceeded to tell me about a house full of rats (more on that later) and, yes, a vision of a little male dog named Junior.
How could so many people who didn’t even know each other, and who had no way of knowing what the others had said, come up with the same story? I was finally convinced that it had to be more than a coincidence.
Weeks and then months passed, and no dog ever showed up on my doorstep. I reminded myself that I was told it would be a while before June’s return, but what did “a while” mean? I still don’t know. It still hasn’t happened. Will June one day return to me as a dog? That remains to be seen, but the possibility made June’s departure a little easier to deal with. And it has led me on an extraordinary journey.
S
HORTLY AFTER
J
UNE’S
PASSING
, I awoke one morning with a “thought” in my mind that I just couldn’t shake. I “felt” a voice telling me very specifically that there was something important I was supposed to do. Was this June’s voice? It wasn’t actual words, but I somehow knew exactly what was being said: I must put this story down on paper. This experience was to become the catalyst for a book that many people would read. I was excited yet overwhelmed at the thought, and I was still very busy, so I put the idea on a “back burner” for the time being.
Periodically, as I worked quietly at my desk, I noticed little rainbow glows around the room. They would just catch the corner of my eye, but whenever I turned to look directly at them, they disappeared. I reasoned that they must be reflections of some sort, yet there were no crystals in the room—in fact, there was
nothing
that could account for these rainbows. Whenever one of them appeared, I felt June’s presence, and I began to wonder if these mysterious little rainbows were signs from her. However, I soon convinced myself that it was just wishful thinking, and surely there must be some sort of logical explanation. I never did figure out what that explanation could be, and a part of me always wondered if perhaps I was just beginning to see that which I wasn’t quite ready to believe.
A
FTER
J
UNE’S PASSING
, the animal kingdom spoke to me like never before. June had opened me up to a world I had almost forgotten existed….
I watched the birds and the bunnies in the yard with a new form of understanding. They were all over the yard now, and they often came right up on the porch. Had I never noticed this before, or had they only just begun doing it?
One day I was out on the front porch and a butterfly landed on the screen door in front of me. The butterfly stayed there for a long time and just seemed to be staring at me. For some reason, I got the feeling that this butterfly was a messenger sent by June, to let me know she was okay. I couldn’t imagine why I would think such a thing, but I felt it very strongly.
Shortly thereafter, I had a very unusual encounter with a fly. I asked for a sign (of what, I don’t know) and a fly appeared. I asked the fly to land on my hand and talk to me, and the fly appeared to do just that. It could have been a coincidence, but I got the feeling that I was communicating with this fly. Creatures of all types seemed to be approaching me like never before.
One sunny afternoon, I sat in the yard doing some paperwork, and two basset hounds came running toward me (
not
a common occurrence in our yard). They appeared to be a mother and son, and the younger one ran right up to me. He
did
have long, floppy ears, but I didn’t think it was June, because even if she did come back as a dog, she probably wouldn’t be this big already. Nevertheless, he seemed to have come to me for a reason.
He looked me right in the eye, and I heard, “I’m thirsty.” I didn’t hear it out loud; but in my head, it was perfectly clear. I got him a bowl of water. He looked at me in gratitude and then lapped it up like a sponge. I called the phone number on the tag and got a recording for the local animal shelter. The dog stayed with me for a while, with his mother nearby; and then when my back was turned, the two disappeared as quietly as they had appeared. I looked everywhere for the dogs, but they were gone. I never saw them again.
During the months following June’s death, I sometimes visited a local pet store while running my weekly errands, just to see the rats there. I had no intention of actually taking a rat home, but I just needed to hold them.
N
OT DISMISSING THE NEW CALLING
I felt from all of these animals, I decided to take action. My parents had finally moved back to California so they could help out with our wedding (thank God—we couldn’t have gotten everything done without them). My dad found a local job, and my mom became our first employee, assisting us long before we could afford to actually pay anyone. This freed up some of my time, so I started a dog-walking and pet-sitting business and acquired regular clients right away. I made new animal friends, and I got to know their human companions. I really related to the love these people felt for their animal companions.
Feeling a need to get in touch with children, who are often more connected to animals than adults, I also began baby-sitting, which I hadn’t done since my teenage years. I shared photos of June with the children, and they understood; children always seem to understand. I wondered how we might hold on to that understanding, instead of letting it slip away and having to recapture it years later.
I recalled my own childhood interest in and involvement with animals. I recalled the various animals who had touched my life. I now realized the importance of each of these animals and how empty things had been during the years without them, until June had entered my life. I recalled significant encounters I’d had with animals, animal tragedies I had witnessed, animal rescues I had been involved in, regrets and lessons. I shared all of this with the children, and they were fascinated, soaking up everything I told them, as we nestled on the sofa surrounded by their own beloved animal companions.
One day, a woman called in response to one of my pet-sitting ads, and a very special basset hound named Tolie came to stay at our home while his people were away. I called an animal communicator to help me inform Tolie that his people would be back and that they hadn’t abandoned him. The animal communicator told me over the phone that Tolie’s first reaction was, “What? Who’s talking to me?” I looked over at him, and he was looking up in the air and all around, appearing quite perplexed.
I began attending workshops on animal communication, taught by various professional animal communicators. I was amazed at how similar the telepathy exercises taught in the workshops were to the exercises I had invented during my childhood years of psychic exploration. I was equally amazed at how quickly I seemed to be picking up on the ability. I felt a strong connection with the other people who were learning and practicing animal communication, and I felt blessed to be surrounded by kindred spirits. We shared a common bond, and I just
knew
we were doing something very important.
O
NE NIGHT, THREE MONTHS AFTER
J
UNE’S DEATH
, I had a dream involving five rats and a guinea pig. In the dream, the five rats lived in our home and ate out of five little bowls on the kitchen floor. I wasn’t sure where the guinea pig fit in, but I clearly saw him in the dream. Because my dreams are often precognitive, I paid attention. The dream really stood out to me, but I wasn’t sure why.
The next day, having forgotten about the dream, I passed an animal shelter while delivering health products to a local customer. Still missing June, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I missed having a warm, soft creature to love. I had begun to doubt the whole reincarnation thing, and I realized that our landlords might not let us have a dog anyway. So, I gave in to my urge to stop and ask if they had any rats. I couldn’t imagine opening up my heart to a new rat, and yet, I just needed to
hold
one. No, they didn’t have any, but they referred me to someone who might: a woman named Maggie Houlihan, who rescued and adopted out all types of animals, including rats.
I called her, and as fate would have it, a rat had just arrived: a young albino male who apparently had either escaped from somewhere or had been abandoned. Having already come up with a name for the rat, I convinced Jameth to go with me, “just to look.”
As it turned out, Maggie knew Michelle (June’s former caretaker) and had heard of June. She told us that if Michelle had entrusted us with
June’s
care, she knew ours would be a great home. We were given a tour of Maggie’s home-turned-animal-shelter, and I saw a single guinea pig; I recognized him from my dream. I took this as a sign, and we returned home with Jonathan Livingston Rat.
At first, I felt tremendous guilt. How could I allow another rat into June’s home? I felt as if I had betrayed her. The next emotion was grief. Jonathan was very sweet, but he wasn’t June, and his presence made me miss her that much more. Sure, they were both rats, but they were opposites in every other way: She was black and he was white; she was female and he was male; she was old and he was young. None of these traits were bad, just
different
. Shortly after we brought Jonathan home, a sad song played on the stereo, and as Jameth and I observed this adorable little stranger who wasn’t June, we held each other and cried.
Despite our lingering grief, Jonathan soon stole our hearts and soothed our souls. He became a special member of the family, and we soon determined that, unlike June, he
would
like a rat companion. So I called every animal shelter in town in search of a rat who needed a home. I located three females, so we “just looked,” and before long, Katey (white with beautiful black markings), April (black with a white belly), and Cindy (agouti brown) joined our family (we had Jonathan neutered first, so unwanted babies weren’t a concern).