Spirit Leaves: Sometimes Our Dearest Teachers are Dogs

Olga stands near the shoes.
Olga stands near the shoes.

I live a relatively hermitic existence. As an empath, I seem to require lots of “down time.” I have no pets, yet all of nature seems to command my love and compassion. Still, I sometimes long for animal friends in my life. This notion was affirmed upon my initiation into the realm of psychic pets.

Two years ago, my foray into pet communication began when I met Phyllis Galde, proprietress of Galde Press, Inc. Phyllis and her team produce metaphysical books, a paranormal reporting magazine FATE (www.fatemag.com), and an interspecies telepathic communication journal, Species Link (www.specieslinkjournal.com). This “First Lady of the Paranormal” maintains a magical home. Fairies and devas reside in an elemental garden. House and yard host a rollicking brood of rescue cats and dogs, six chickens named after ’50s starlets, and a slinky yellow Boa named Isis.

Phillis & Ole
Phillis & Ole
One day in Phyllis’ kitchen, her dog Ole greeted me. I stroked his reddish fur. Every time I went to pet the top of his head, he would give it a vigorous shake and tuck his nose under my elbow. I realized that I had been distracted by the high energy and telepathy of the humans present. Ole was demanding my complete focus. He began emanating pure affection.

Then, something strange happened. I began to “hear” Ole’s thoughts. This “hearing” differed from reception of human transmissions: the dog’s ideas seemed more immediate, easier to discern. Ole “told me” to avoid the top of his head to keep his crown chakra open. Instead, I pet his ears, chest and shoulders. When I finally got the message and avoided the top of his head, he laid his head on my lap with great deliberation. Having established a link, he next invited me to do energy work on his left hip, strained earlier from stalking squirrels.

I was slightly abashed, not having recognized sooner that dogs can communicate knowingly. I reported this to Phyllis. She just smiled, already quite accustomed to interspecies communication with animals, plants and, more recently, water.

Phyllis’ partner and best friend, David Godwin, had been alive to witness my first telepathic communication with their smaller dog, Olga. One morning, Olga stared up at me through straggly honey blonde-and-silver strands of shaggy wet hair. I said to Olga, “Where have you been? You look scruffy.”

David chuckled quietly. “She likes to run through the neighbor’s sprinkler. They call her ‘Scruffy.'”

I was amazed: I realized it was Olga who had communicated her nickname and had David validate it. I wasn’t trying to be rude toward Olga — she’s so cute! This determined little dog had found a way to “explain” her bedraggled appearance.

I’m grateful for this connection with the “critters,” as Phyllis affectionately refers to her little family. Olga, I later learned, was named after Olga Prindle, Phyllis’ maternal grandmother. Ole was named after Ole Galde, Phyllis’ paternal grandfather. In classic Norsk tradition, Ole and Lena traveled together — golden retriever and black Labrador. Lena has since transitioned to the spirit world, and the entire household — animal and human — grieved.

In a more recent visit, Ole greeted me in true retriever form, shoe clenched in his teeth. He dropped his trophy, sat at my feet, leaned his head on me and began transmitting. What he told me was that he likes to sit upright, because having all four feet close together grounds him. I realized he was reminding me to ground myself. I tend to fly around in the high energy present in Phyllis’ home. When I reported Ole’s message to Phyllis, she just smiled, confirming that, “Yes, he’s a teacher.”

I’ve never taken a workshop or read books on animal communication; I’ve learned animal telepathy directly from a dog. Phyllis affirmed that, for some, that is the purest, most natural way to learn. I’ve always felt a connection to creatures and loved them, but now, I use telepathy at every opportunity. I speak to birds with my heart. I communicate with large fish in Chinese restaurant aquariums.

Thanks to Phyllis Galde’s unconditionally loving pets, I am forever changed in the way I view and relate to the different species on our beautiful Earth.

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Janet Michele Red Feather
Janet Michele Red Feather, J.D., M.A., is a ceremonial singer who has learned over 60 traditional songs in Mandan and Lakota and sings in nine different languages. Janet was a full-time defense litigator in California for nearly eight years. Her life changed significantly after she traveled to North Dakota in 1993 to fast and pray for a way of life. A regular columnist for The Edge, she has also appeared in Psychic Guidepost, FATE Magazine and Species Link. Her book, Song of the Wind (2014, Galde Press), dealt with her experiences as an empath, and her journey through Mandan spiritual culture. She is currently a full-time, tenured English faculty member at Normandale Community College, having taught Composition and Literature for a span of 20 years.


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