Lady Victoria

She is one reason why I married Charlie.  Can you imagine riding bareback all around a mountain with a sexy 18-year old, funny, good natured, and imaginative? Here I was dating a young guy who told me he was 24. I was so lovestruck I would’ve believed anything. Charlie’s horse, Lady Victoria, was a chestnut quarter horse, sweet natured, and a little bit of a slut herself.. Lady Victoria was well-trained and obedient. One of my favorite pictures of Charlie was him barefoot on a horse, holding a trophy that he just won at a gymkhana.

After we married and had two children, Charlie’s family moved and we inherited Lady Vic. She was getting old then, and did not get ridden very often. She enjoyed eating and wandering around. Unfortunately for us, there were two mobile home trailer hitches lying on top of each other that formed a “V”. Lady Vic caught her rear foot in that V and broke her ankle.  Even so she wandered around as though nothing had happened. I figured that she deserved her respite, her alfalfa and her leisure. She would occasionally whinny at the wild horses that lived in the other side of our fence. Eventually when money was tight and the time came, we had to choose what to do about Lady Vic.

Around that time I met an animal psychic named Fred Kimball.  Soon after World War II, Fred was stationed in the merchant marines down in Panama. There he got lost in the jungle. While trying to find his way out he noticed various animals moving in certain directions. Being totally disoriented he prayed that these creatures would help him find his way out of the jungle. Within three days he found his way out and also found a newborn talent, that of listening to animals and interpreting their messages.

I called Fred on the phone and told him about our horse, Lady Victoria and her broken leg. Upon hearing her name over the phone, Fred immediately said, “Lady Vic is saying goodbye. She has always been an obedient horse, even when she didn’t want to be.” That was a very accurate statement.  We all said goodbye to Lady Vic and gave her an extra helping of hay and oats over the last week of her life.  She set the example of good mothering, and self-sacrifice.

Later on, I was called in as a consultant on the murder case. A woman had been killed and as I tuned into the event I saw a white dog that seemed female.  I asked about the dog and found that she was present at the time of the murder.  I immediately called Fred and gave him the name of the dog and he described the man who committed the murder from the dog’s point of view. It coincided with the description of her boyfriend. The police told the man that they had an eyewitness placing him at the scene on the day that she was killed. He eventually confessed. They never told him the eyewitness was a canine.

Fred Kimball’s skills were sharply honed over the years and there are many stories yet to be told about his abilities to communicate with animals. I invited Fred to be a guest speaker at an evening event. One of the attendees was a young woman who had been physically beaten by a former boyfriend and still bore the bruises. He took one look at her and said, “Why didn’t you pay attention to the crows? They were flying in front of your car trying to get you to stop and turn back. They knew that you were going to be hurt.”

The girl started to cry and said yes she did notice the crows but never realized that they had a message for her. All she wanted were her clothes and a few items of limited value.

The experience put her in a hospital. Fred told her that the reason she ignored the warning was because she has very low self-esteem. “You did not think that Mother Nature cared about you, but she does.”

Many stories about Fred are yet to be told. There are several stories about Fred in a book by Bill Schul called The Psychic Power of Animals, copyright 1977.

Isis the cat

She was already nine years old when she came to me, a small silky black cat. My nephew had called her Blackie, but I renamed her Isis. She was one of those harmless looking cats but rarely did she miss anything. When I moved out to the country she came with me and I remember she would climb on my chest in the morning, purring loudly, in order to wake me up. If other cats came to us, which they did, she would soon show them who’s boss. Her technique was simple.  She would nap quietly, apparently oblivious, but if another cat laid a paw upon on her she would suddenly become a warrior queen and kick them off whatever furniture they were on, or off the balcony. They never tried it again.

Isis loved it when I played my flute and would rub around my ankles as if my sound was giving her great pleasure. She also liked being the only cat I paid attention to, and if I did pet another cat she would turn away and look elsewhere. Then later she would bully them, taking their food, or snarling in their ear. With me she was always very loving, a truly wonderful companion. I often would take naps with her, and see her in my dream with her ears tufted like a linx.  Her presence helped me to relax.

Once I had to leave in order to travel, trusting the house to the care of my family. One cardinal rule was no dogs in the house. Dogs belonged outside while the cats ruled inside. This was especially true with visiting dogs who had no knowledge of the pecking order. One weekend however I came home on a Sunday evening and found out that Isis was missing. My son confessed that he allowed his friend to bring his pit bull in the house and stay the night. During the night Isis came downstairs and that pit bull attacked her, grabbing her with its mouth, sinking its teeth in her stomach and throwing her across the room. After that night she was nowhere to be found.

It so happened that that weekend I did a reading for a feline veterinarian by the name of Roger Valentine. I was amazed that he had spirit guides who looked like Egyptian felines including the famous goddess Bast.  Bast was the Egyptian version of the goddess of hearth and home. She has been seen as a giant white cat with tufted ears who often appears when a cat lover loses their companion in order to comfort them. When I finally found Isis hiding in the closet, she was covered with little red ants who were eating in and around the puncture wounds on her stomach. Her eyes were dilated and she started to purr loudly which is the cat’s way of self nurturing. I vacuumed off the ants and placed her on a pad with a cup of water. I then prayed and reached up into the astral plane to borrow Roger’s spirit guides. I felt them arrive including the great Bast. As I placed my hands over Isis’ little body. I felt a jolt of energy move through them and into her. After a few minutes she lifted her head and took a drink of water. After another brief period of rest I coaxed her to eat some food.

By the next morning, she was totally healed with only small scabs on the four  puncture wounds. I am glad I changed her name to Isis, the mother of healing.  I noticed a remarkable personality change. Before this incident she was a very quiet cat, rarely making a sound other than her purring. Afterwards she was one of the most vocal cats I’ve ever heard. She would walk into the room with guests and go to each person,  giving them a piece of her feline mind. She lived a total of 22 years and an unknown number of lifetimes.

Shiva the dog

Shiva was a mongrel, her mother part coyote, her father some kind of shepherd. She was golden brown with a wide head and intelligent gold eyes. She had a nervous temperament and a tongue that sometimes dripped a bit too much.  Her owner would bring her by to visit but always treated her with reserve. He complained that she refused to stay home and would follow him whenever he tried to leave. No amount of training seemed to work. He asked me if I would be willing to take her on. At first I refused, having a cat and no money at the time.

The owner who I will call Randy, had tried to date me, but I was at least 8 inches taller and he was not my type. He played the Hammond organ very well, and I remember thinking he was a small man with a very large sound. He was always very cool even when making music, playing the exact chords but without passion. I remember thinking that he probably had a damaged heart. One day Randy showed up with the dog, a 40 pound bag of dog food and $200. He said that if I did not take her that she would go to the pound. Reluctantly I agreed. Looking in her eyes, I heard the name Shiva, Hindu god of destruction. A week later I heard that Randy had given away all his possessions and took his own life.

So I began the long process of training the dog to stay home, and with the help of a steel cable, caused her to stay home even if she did not want to. I remember talking to her in clear pictures explaining that she must stay home and that it’s okay for her to want to be with me. When I began allowing her to stay inside my living room she became content and would curl up under my chair. She was my first devotee, even though I did not want any devotees. Eventually I could announce to her that I was leaving and point to the spot where I wanted her to be when I returned and she would be there waiting. After a while I did not need the cable.

Shiva was my constant companion, and jealous of the cats. Even so she never hurt them. In those days I would often go hiking in the rocky hills and take her with me. One day in late summer we hiked to the top of the hill and I climbed on top a huge boulder shaped like a bread loaf. It was a sweaty hot afternoon and I lay there watching the air molecules over the rock churning, forming paisley designs.  Shiva was at the bottom of the boulder and began to bark. At first I ignored her and told her to be quiet for I was enjoying the show. Her barking became more intense and I could hear fear in her voice. I sat up and looked at her. She seemed to be saying, get down, get off that rock right now!

I slid down off the rock and started to walk towards her. She turned and ran. I smelled a strange acrid odor and turning to look back at where I had been, I saw the sky over the rock was black, white and silver for a moment and then a huge 20 foot wide wall of blue and white flame shot up from the boulder. At the same time, a deafening explosion occurred. Within a minute, the rain started and soon became a flash flood and a torrent.  I was lucky to make it to the bottom of the hill with only a drenching.

I wondered at the name Shiva quite a lot in those days.  Shiva the destroyer! Even though her life had a void of love, she saved mine.  I bless her memory.  At the end of her life she took on a lot of anger from me.  My husband was into cocaine and all kinds of corrupt people at the time and I was busy having a baby…it was difficult at best. Every joy I had was threatened or destroyed by anger.  She was with me during the days and nights of being stuck home without a car, with a child on the way. I nearly killed my husband once when he teased me about being barefoot and pregnant.  In a moment of insanity I picked the freezer door lid and whacked him across the back of his head.  I completely blanked it out. I am “not a violent person.”

Eventually, Shiva developed a huge tumor in her throat and one day disappeared.  I knew she took a lot of my negative emotions on, as some dogs are able to do.  Thanks, Shiva, for my life.