Bingo, one of my first clients, was a Golden Retriever who had developed a very fast-growing cancer on her front ankle.  Her person, Amy, called me for a Reiki healing on the ankle tumor.  The Veterinarian had recommended amputation of the leg at the shoulder.  Amy wanted to try everything before letting the vet take the leg, but time was running out.  I settled in on the living room floor and opened myself to pass the healing energy through for Bingo to use as she felt best.

A few minutes had passed when Amy began talking to her boyfriend seated next to her.  She was wondering what she could do, or should do, to help Bingo.  Suddenly a voice in my head said, “Just love me.”  I thought to myself, “How am I going to tell these people that the dog is answering their questions?”  Until this experience with Bingo, I hadn’t ever done this with people I didn’t know really well.  Amy continued talking with her boyfriend, saying, “I just wish I knew what this was all about.”  “Acceptance,” I heard Bingo answer.  Then Amy told her boyfriend how confused she was—should the leg be amputated, or was the cancer curable?  This time I opened my eyes and began talking to Amy directly.  I realized that it was time for me to “go public.”

I explained, in a way I cannot remember because I was so nervous, how I heard a voice and saw images that Bingo was sending to answer Amy’s questions.  I continued allowing energy to pass through to Bingo and, to my great surprise, Amy began a conversation with Bingo through me.  I sat passing questions and answers from person to dog and from dog to person.  I do remember Amy asking whether Bingo was in pain.  Bingo showed me a picture of herself walking and her voice alternated, “Yes, no, yes, no, yes, no, …” Each time she put weight on the leg with the tumor, “yes,” and as the weight shifted off the leg, “no.” This is typical of the way an animal relates to pain in its body.  If it hurts right now, there’s pain; otherwise, “no pain.”  They seem to view pain as a momentary sensation that comes and goes.  Amy asked, “How does she feel about the vet amputating her leg?”   I saw an image of Bingo running quickly around the yard as she chased a tennis ball, then slowing as she returned the ball to the human who had thrown it.  She walked strangely as she slowed her speed, and stopped.  I could see that she had only three legs.  Bingo’s response seemed to help Amy decide that the amputation was more of a problem to Amy than it was to Bingo.  The conversation carried on for a little more than 30 minutes while I continued to pass healing energy.  Afterward, as I washed my hands to leave, I thought how it all seemed so ordinary—a little unusual, but in no way creepy or mystical.

I left feeling hopeful that Bingo would snap right around and cure herself of the cancer, and then my mind drifted into replaying what had just transpired.  I drove home in somewhat of a dream-like state as the reality of this effortless two-way communication sank in.  I literally had to keep shaking my head from side to side as I saw the scene in my mind’s eye.  It all seemed so normal at the time and so weird afterward.

Bingo did have her leg amputated a week later.  The vet was shocked by how quickly Bingo recovered from the anesthesia and how quickly she was up running around the office.  In fact, the vet worried that Bingo was so “unaffected” by the amputation and surgery that she sedated her for fear Bingo would injure herself.  That stands as a testimonial to energy healing.  Bingo was home the following day, acting as if she had three legs all along.

I heard from Amy a couple of years later.  Bingo had since passed, but an extraordinary thing had happened immediately after Amy buried Bingo. As she sat on the deck to relax and say a final goodbye, Amy looked up to see a pure white Shar Pei sitting on the dirt mounded over Bingo’s grave.  Amy watched the dog remembering that since she had been a little girl, she had wanted a Shar Pei.  They shared a few silent minutes connected in some deep mystical way, and then the dog slowly walked off.  Amy lowered her head for a second and when she glanced back to the grave, the Shar Pei had vanished. “It was odd,” she said.  “I had never seen that dog around before and I’ve lived here my whole life.  It just disappeared!”   Amy said, “Bruce, at that moment I knew Bingo was at peace.  And, I knew that the angels had sent the white Shar Pei to bring me that comforting message.”  As Amy spoke these words, a chill ran through my body and I knew she was right.