Ophelia - from What the Dolphins Told Me

Ophelia – from What the Dolphins Told Me

I make a new friend, Brie, in a networking group in South Florida, and she tells me about her soul dog: Ophelia. I ask her if I can connect with the dog, to practice my animal communication. She agrees.

Ophelia is a young, sweet, gentle soul. At first, she is hesitant about connecting with me – I tell her that I have her owner’s permission to connect with her. Tentatively, she says yes.

I learn that she is unsure about trusting people she doesn’t know. She’s cautious. She has trusted before and it didn’t work out. She felt betrayed.

She’s happy now. She enjoys her life – she gets to go to doggy day care.

I ask her: what’s your favorite spot in the house?

I like my bed – but prefer my mother’s bed and the smell of her.

Her favorite toy?

A rag-pull toy (As she shares this with me, I see it: it’s smelly and disgusting to a human. It looks like a rope with a knot in it).

What’s your favorite food?

Crunchy bits. Small. With gravy. (I see a stainless-steel bowl and hear clanging as she eats.)

What is your role in the household?

To take care of my mother.

How do you do that?

I protect her and love her. I’m with her as much as possible so she can feel my presence.

Do you have a message for your mother? Something I should tell her?

I like playing. Thanks for letting me play with other dogs.

My life before was chaos. Not regular. No schedule. It was scary. Unpredictable. I like predictable and routine.

I feel at peace with you. I’m not afraid.

I am grateful.

I sometimes need quiet time. To decompress.

I still remember the chaos. I’m learning to let it go and be just a memory, not present in my life. Move on and away from it.

Thank you for the stillness and calm. I can relax and be myself. Play. Become more me. Enjoy my time here in this life.

A few weeks after this reading, Brie reaches out to me after Ophelia was exposed to some toxins at her doggie daycare. Apparently, she was near death for a few days, but she pulled through and is now stable and at home.

Brie says that Ophelia now has pneumonia and that she wants me to tell Ophelia that she’s been sick (she seems very confused) and that she needs to rest and get better.

I connect with Ophelia and my friend is correct in that Ophelia is a bit confused about what’s going on. I explain to her that she’s been sick and that everyone around her is taking care of her.

Most importantly, I tell her that it’s her job right now to get better. She seems to resist that a bit but I work hard to repeat it, to tell her that she should REST now. That’s what she needs to do, especially for her mother.

She seems tired, weary. She relates that breathing is hard (in her chest) and her paws are “tingling” at her toes. She also seems to have a “dry mouth” and I tell her that she needs to drink a lot of water when she feels that way (it may be because of the medicine she’s on). She doesn’t seem to be at all hungry.

She does love lying on soft things (very soft!) and she gets the message that her mother wants her to rest and drink water and sleep so she can get better.

Brie texts me: “Thanks again for talking to Ophie. It made a big difference: she did settle and rest, but her cough was way worse today. So we went back to the vet and got more meds. When we got home she couldn’t get into my comfy bed fast enough!”

A few days later, I wake up early in the morning and decide to check in with Ophelia. As soon as I try to connect with her, I feel a shooting pain on the left side of my neck, in the muscle that travels all the way up to my skull and into my head. It’s a sudden, weird headache and I’ve never felt this before.

I’m still sleepy but I know that it has to do with Ophelia, so I apologize to her but tell her I have to disconnect – it’s too painful.

As soon as I do, the pain subsides.

I feel terrible about this. It’s as though I’ve abandoned her.

But maybe I made it up, I think. Maybe it wasn’t real?

I wait until an hour or so later (after 8:00 am) to reach out to Brie to ask her how Ophelia is doing. I text her: “Good morning! I know this is going to sound weird, but I tried to check in with Ophelia this morning and felt a bad headache, with pain radiating from the left side of her neck to where it meets her skull. Is that possible? How is she doing?”

Brie texts back: “Awww, she is having a nice morning. Still coughing a bit but def good emotionally. So I think she is ok. I am def watching her like a hawk. We are hanging out in the back yard for a bit before work gets going. How are you doing?”

I respond that I was worried but that I’m relieved.

In the meantime, she sends me pictures of Ophelia who, to me, looks miserable. I sense that she’s really not well, despite the pictures of her lying in the grass.

I focus on Ophelia again, and the shooting pain returns, exactly the same, on the left side of my neck.

It’s horrible. I can’t let this go.

I text Brie back: “I’m still getting something with her neck. Left side. Muscle. Do you mind just rubbing it for me? Behind her ear?”

I wait, watching my phone.

“Yep, rubbing it now.”

I silently bless her for taking this seriously.

And then, suddenly, the pain is gone.

A text arrives, “Oh I felt it release!”

Ah. Yes. My neck feels so much better.

Brie sends me a picture of the dog, lying down, tongue out, relaxed.

“It was a big release. Wow! She fell right to sleep! That was amazing!”

I can only imagine how long Ophelia has been lying awake, miserable, with that pain. She must be exhausted.