What Your Animals Tell Me

“You do what?” people exclaim in amazement when I tell them I am an

animal communicator.


“And how exactly do you do that?” they ask.


“Well,” I reply, “I get pictures in my mind like clips of a movie. These

pictures tell me whether an animal is happy or sad, if it’s longing for

something, or satisfied with its life. They show me their wants, desires,

needs and their hurts.”


The images I receive do not refer to time, so it may be hard to place

the content of the picture in the past, present or future. Also, the meaning

depends greatly on the circumstances surrounding the event or the context 

of the situation. The images are often accompanied by impressions, 

feelings, tastes, sounds, and smells. I use all my senses when I am receiving

the picture clips so, when I see a scene, I also know how the animal feels 

about what I’m seeing. 


Occasionally, I call myself an animal behaviorist, which is tongue-in-

cheek because most of the time, any behavioral change called for is on the

part of the human and not the pet. People often assume that, because I 

communicate with animals, I grew up close to them, observing them and 

sharing their lives. In fact, I grew up in Buenos Aires, Argentina, a busy 

metropolitan city, surrounded by apartment buildings. The downtown area, 

where skyscrapers competed for the sky and for how many apartments or 

offices they could contain, was no place for pets. To see the slightest hint 

of green, I had to walk to a park, the lungs of the city, a couple of miles away. 


When I was eight, my family bought a summer home about two

hours away from the city. It was a large Spanish-style home surrounded

by lush green, and lots of fruit trees. It was a little piece of heaven, away

from the noise of taxi horns and exhaust fumes. All of my three-month

long school vacations were spent there and, on one such vacation, I realized 

that I could hear animals’ thoughts. On the corner next to us were neighbors 

who had emigrated from Europe. They had a farm and everyone within 30 

miles knew the family and sought them out for fresh produce. They also raised 

chickens for eggs, cows for milk, a few work horses, a couple of dogs and some 

barn cats. We felt lucky to have them nearby as it meant that we would not 

starve, even during bad summer floods.


I would often go next door to buy milk and eggs. On one occasion, I

was given a tour of the farm and saw a new mother pig with about 20

piglets beside her. I was surprised to hear her complain about how 

incredibly tired she found nursing her young. As I “heard” this, she was 

looking right at me, and it was clear to me that I was not imagining it. I

was paralyzed by this phenomenon and couldn’t move for a long while.

From then on, I volunteered to go for supplies all the time so that I could

talk to the animals.


Once a dog tied to a tree told me how hot he was and laughed about

the beating he received the previous day for breaking his chain. He said,

“It didn’t hurt that much, and besides it was worth it. I got to inspect the

whole ranch and marked everything. Now, even if I’m tied down most of

the day, everyone will know it’s all mine.”


I also heard a cow that warmly offered me some freshly squeezed

milk, and the chickens complained about the new arrogant young cock.


At such a young age, I took these things for granted, never realizing

that not everyone had this gift. I simply replied to the animals and went

on playing. It was not always pleasant, however. One day, a dog was about

to be beaten and I really heard his desperate cry for help. The man undid

his belt and called the dog to his side. The faithful animal, well aware of

what was going to happen, obediently trotted over to him, shoulders

sloughing down, head looking at the ground, and tail curled low between

his legs. He looked at me and screamed, “Tell him to stop, tell him not to

do it.”


“Please don’t hurt him,” I begged the owner, but to no avail.


“He needs to be taught a lesson,” the man said gruffly.


Filled with anger and disbelief, I turned and walked away, the dog’s

cries ringing in my head. His pain was my pain. I ran home and vowed to

never experience this again.


It wasn’t until my eighteenth birthday that I realized I was different,

and began asking why I got extrasensory information from people and

animals but others didn’t. Why was vivid déjà vu an everyday occurrence?

Why could I foretell events? For example, in conversations, I routinely

knew what someone would say next.


This was a matter of mild curiosity for me until the day my world

stopped. I had just married and we went to a furniture store to buy

furnishings for our new apartment. The moment I set foot in the store, I

started to see a “movie” that showed me what the two-level store looked

like, and I noted that the sweeping main staircase reminded me of the one

in Gone with the Wind. I saw how every piece of furniture that we would

buy was already in our new apartment. And I suddenly discovered why I

was there and why this was happening. The picture inside my head showed

me a little girl playing on the staircase accidentally fall and break several

bones.


My mind raced. What am I supposed to do, I wondered. Has this

already happened? Or is it about to happen? And if so, what am I supposed 

to do? Stop the little girl? Tell her mother? WILL SOMEONE TELL ME 

WHAT TO DO, I screamed internally. 


The movie played for several minutes, during which time I actually

saw a little girl begin to play on the staircase. She was jumping to the first

step, then turning around and jumping to the ground. The next time, she

jumped two steps and turned to jump back to the ground level. She did

this several times, each time jumping up one more step before turning

and jumping down. I was motionless, watching and reliving my

premonition. I counted six steps and, as I saw her begin to turn, I screamed.

This startled her and she shifted her weight so that, unlike the premonition,

she was only bruised, with no broken bones. She still cried and screamed

for her mother but I felt so good when I saw her stand up and run to her

family.


Somehow my scream had changed the outcome. Shaken and confused,

I wondered to whom I could speak about this. Who would understand?

Would I be judged weird or worse, insane? I decided to say nothing to

anybody, except God, the Universe, or whoever out there was in charge

and hopefully listening. “If I am never shown any bad things, then I will

accept this gift and put it to work in helping people and animals. I will

honor this promise as long as you never, ever show me scary things again.”


Getting over the furniture store incident took many years. By then,

however, I knew what the word “psychic” meant. I had read all the books

by Jane Roberts in which she channels an entity named Seth, and was

glad to learn that I wasn’t the only one who was “strange.” Jane Roberts

had the same doubts that I had and as she recounted that she was, in fact,

her own worst skeptic and critic, I began to feel more at ease. Then came

other authors. And so my path began.


How will I use my gift in a positive way to help animals, I wondered.

I reasoned that when you meet new people, you begin by asking them

about themselves. So why not just do the same with the animals? I will

ask them questions, and they will answer, I decided.


As I would come to find, animals are usually happy to describe their

personality so that I can get to know them quickly. For example, they may

describe themselves as “a little lady,” “an old grouch,” “an adventurer,” or

”a couch potato.” Sometimes they explain their interaction with family

members. They might tell me, for instance, that they are very close to

Mom or Dad. (Most animals hold a parental-like image of their humans,

so ‘Mom’ or ‘Dad’ often comes to mind.) Members of a multi-pet

household talk about who is “top dog.” A few talk about “friends” when

describing the humans with whom they share a home. Amazingly, even

those who are beaten and cursed talk lovingly about their families.


Some give me deep spiritual messages while others talk about their

favorite food or activity. They all talk about love, about patience, and

about having a job to do. Their jobs vary and are the most important part

of their lives. Dogs, for instance, might take care of the house, watch for

strangers, keep an eye on the kids, prohibit the cat from entering the

room, or watch the baby. Outside dogs can go hunting, fishing, hiking or

herding. No matter what the job is, they always enjoy doing it well. They

want to please their human companions and see them happy.


Cats, on the other hand, are more independent. Although some of

them have a job, their main desire is to sleep, sunbathe, and do exactly

what they want (as opposed to what you want). Still, they balance their

wants and desires so that the relationship can be give-and-take. Granted,

some of you give more than you take ... or do you? At times, it seems as

if our animals give us a lot more than we offer them. Their unconditional

love is always there for us, regardless of how we treat them, and that far

outweighs any payment or sacrifice that we can make.


Many of the stories in this book reveal that often our animals’ main

purpose is to teach us something about ourselves, and if they don’t achieve

that purpose in one lifetime, they will reincarnate back with us to continue

their work. This may involve an animal getting the same sickness as its

human guardian. With one of my clients, the animal died while she made

a complete recovery.


Understanding the role of our animals and what they do is sometimes

far beyond our comprehension. By their actions, they mirror your feelings,

showing you whether you’re having a good day or a bad one. By being

stressed themselves, they show you how stressed you are. Even when you

show no outward signs of stress, they sense it because they can see your

aura (the energy field surrounding your physical body) and become

sponges, absorbing your stress for themselves. This helps you feel more

relaxed. And what do you do then? You pet them and tell them you love

them. They, in turn, show you their tummy, look at you with adoring

eyes or simply purrrrrrrr ....


Purring signifies a magnificent feeling of contentment. To make your

kitty purr with delight means that you must be a wonderful person. She

needs you to show love and you do. In return, she shows you just how

special you are. After all, she doesn’t purr for just anyone!


When our animals speak to us, they say things they need us to hear.

They seldom complain, but do want us to see their perspective. It’s not

enough for us just to understand what they’re saying, though; often we

must also take some action. If, during a consultation, I tell you that the

reason your cat refuses to use her litter box is because it’s dirty, I get

concerned if you give me excuses such as, “I work long hours and get

home tired,” “I can’t change the location of his box!” or, “He always liked

that brand of litter before.” I can’t change your animal’s mind; I can only

tell you what they tell me. It’s up to you to act on it and do the changing. 


Some people scoff when pet lovers ascribe human-like feelings to their

animals. As an emotional empath, I disagree; every day, animals share

their feelings with me. They can also rationalize what they want and what

they prefer, and events and circumstances to do with home and family.


It is my hope that this book will open a door in your mind. Even if

you question my gift, please strive to be receptive to the insights it offers.

And know that I have been as truthful and honest in every detail as I

possibly can. Some of these consultations are on audio cassette for my

reference, and others have been verified with the animal’s owner. The

stories are all true!


Hopefully, this book will reveal the rich and deep inner world of our

pets, so that owners may appreciate them more. Animals know far more

about what is happening in their lives—and yours—than we give them

credit for. And as you will see, they have souls that survive physical death

as do we, and often watch over us from the other side.


For clarification in the following accounts, I have put the animals’

communications to me in quotation marks, as if they are speaking.

Sometimes, I do in fact hear actual words; when it is important, I get the

whole sentence and, other times, I get a few words with the movie clip. I

hope this conveys the to-and-fro nature of our telepathic “conversations.”

So please relax and enjoy each chapter, filled with the animals’ insights

and perceptions, and walk alongside their families to experience how

animals affect, enrich and enlighten our lives every day.


Dr. Monica Diedrich

Anaheim, California