photo: The She-Creature on flickr

photo: The She-Creature on flickr

Have you ever been to a psychic?

Even though I’m thoroughly woo-woo, I’ve only been to one psychic in my life, and that was in my twenties.

The psychic told me some things that were totally right-on, and other things that were way off. I can be extremely impressionable, and I’ve found it’s better for me to build a relationship with my own intuition than to rely too heavily on the intuitive information of others.

That said, I had the honor of getting to know someone who was not at all impressionable, someone who had such a clear sense of her own mind and her own will, that no psychic in the land could sway her.

Yes, that’s right, I’m talking about my Guru: Lucy, the cat. (For previous entries about Her Highness, go here and here and here.)

photo: z egloff

photo: z egloff

When my Guru made her way into my life, she was a year old. I found her in an animal shelter in Healdsburg, California. She was brought into the shelter by an elderly woman who mistakenly captured her in a raccoon trap.

From the minute I met her, the Guru was her feisty self. She let me hold her for about a minute. Then she bit me.

It was love at first sight.

I brought the Guru home to live with me and everything was fine. At least, for the most part.

She still had a tendency to bite and she often seemed pissed off. I had one friend who summed it up nicely. After gazing upon Lucy’s face for the first time, my friend remarked that she looked like she’d spent time in prison.

photo: z egloff

photo: z egloff

When another friend of mine mentioned she’d talked to an amazing pet psychic, I was intrigued.

After all, I had no idea what had happened to my Guru in the first year of her life. Her feistiness pointed to possible abuse. Why not talk to the psychic and see what came up?

So I set up an appointment and gave the woman a call. She lived on the East Coast, so I wasn’t able to see her in person.

As it turned out, that may have been for the best.

First of all, the woman let me know she didn’t like the term “pet psychic.” She preferred to be called an “animal intuitive.”

Got it.

Also, she sounded like she smoked about four packs of cigarettes a day and had known more than one bar fight in her time. This impression was purely from the sound of her voice and was probably totally made up. Probably.

photo: John Benson on flickr

photo: John Benson on flickr

We got down to business right away. She had me hold Lucy in my lap while she asked about her history.

Right away, the psychic started giving me information she would have no way of knowing.

She talked about a little kink in the middle of the Guru’s spine. I felt Lucy’s back: Sure enough, there was a little bump, right where the psychic said it would be.

The psychic said the bump was due to a fall Lucy had taken in her first year, a fall that was due to abuse. Apparently, Lucy had been around little children and they had not treated her well. The psychic said Lucy was probably not too happy about kids, especially boys.

This was totally on target. The Guru was terrified of kids, especially little boys.

photo: Jen Millward on flickr

photo: Jen Millward on flickr

The psychic also shared some fascinating tidbits.

Lucy, she said, was not athletic. (“She likes to recline,” the psychic said.)

It took a minute for this to sink in. Up until that moment, I’d thought all animals were athletic. But no. Animals, just like humans, have a range of sportiness. And the Guru, apparently, had not received that gene.

You mean that the Guru, like me, would have been the last one picked for the team in gym class?

Apparently so.

The psychic also said Lucy thought of our house as her house. “Don’t all cats think that?” I asked. “No,” said the psychic. “But Lucy does.”

photo: z egloff

photo: z egloff

The psychic then proceeded to give me advice on how to handle Lucy’s bossy persona. She dispensed this advice in a manner quite similar to Lucy herself. She was abrupt and even caustic.

Indeed, as the psychic rattled on, I realized she had maintained this brusque manner the entire session.

No wonder she’s a pet psychic, I thought. She’s not too good with people.

When at last the session was finished, I hung up the phone and went on with my life. As did the Guru.

Since that call, I couldn’t tell you how many times I referred to the information I received. The psychic’s advice helped me understand the Guru better. It helped me take better care of her, and have compassion for what she experienced before she came to live with me.

Yes, the psychic was abrupt, even rude at times. But she had a gift, a gift she was sharing with the world. One that aided both the Guru and me.

They say our teachers bring forth exactly what we need in service of our enlightenment.

Did the Guru lead me to the pet psychic in order that I might gain greater compassion for the Guru and the pet psychic? Did the Guru intend for the psychic to push my buttons so I could grow in tolerance and objectivity?

Or did she just want me to know she wasn’t athletic so I would stop trying to get her to chase her toy mouse?

She was a Guru, after all. She knew that she and the mouse were one and there was no need to chase anything.

Or maybe she was just lazy.

Either way, I never messed with the Guru. She was too busy reclining meditating.

photo: z egloff

photo: z egloff

Do you have a Guru with a tail? What has she or he taught you?! Share your comments below!

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