What Happens in an Animal Communication Session?

You've heard about animal communication. Maybe you're intrigued. Maybe you're skeptical. Maybe you're both at the same time — which is honestly the most reasonable place to be. Booking your first session can feel a little like showing up to a party where you don't know anyone or the rules. What do you bring? What do you say? What's actually going to happen in there?

Let me take your coat.

Before We Begin

When you book a session, I'll ask for some basic information through my intake form: your animal's name, type or breed, age, how long they've been with you, and who else lives in the household. I'll also ask for a photo.

That's genuinely all I need.

At the start of our appointment, I'll ask if you have any specific questions for your animal before I begin. Sometimes people share a lot of context at this point — what's been going on, what they're worried about, what they've already tried. I listen. I receive it warmly.

And then, between you and me and the wall — I try to forget most of it.

Not because your context doesn't matter, but because I don't want it muddying the reading. If I go in already knowing your dog has been limping, I might unconsciously look for limping instead of receiving whatever your dog actually wants to show me. The cleaner I can keep my slate, the cleaner the information comes through.

Opening the Connection

I start with a quiet meditation — usually two to five minutes — just to get into my own skin. To set aside the noise of my day, my own animals, my own thoughts, and become genuinely present.

Then I connect with your animal.

What does that look like? Mostly I just watch (in my mind's eye, they don't need to be present). I let them be exactly who they are without jumping in with questions or an agenda. I get a feel for their essence — their personality, their energy, the particular flavor of who they are. Sometimes questions pop into my mind organically and I'll ask them. I don't work from a list of interview questions because that can restrict the flow. The best questions are usually the ones that arise naturally from what I'm already receiving.

After I get a sense of who they are and what they love, I do a medical scan.

This is the part that looks a little strange if you're watching. You might see me holding my hands up as if I'm cradling something invisible. In my mind's eye, I'm placing my hands on your animal — holding their body, their organs, their limbs — and getting a sense of what's going on physically. I don't diagnose. I describe what I'm experiencing. Discomfort. Tension. Inflammation. Ease. Sometimes I feel things in my own body as a reference point.

The whole connection process — essence, personality, favorite things, medical scan — takes about five to ten minutes.

What Comes Through

Here's the thing about animal communication that surprises most people: the answers to your questions are often already there before I even ask them.

Take my cat Kiki. She's 18, spicy, bossy, and absolutely convinced that the warmest spot in any room belongs to her (including, but not limited to the back of the stove while we're making dinner). If you asked me why she demands to be physically ON me at all times, I wouldn't need to ask her directly — her essence already tells the story. And in her medical scan, I feel the achiness in her joints. Probably arthritis. Worth getting checked out. (Most cats seven and older have arthritis, but they tend to be stoic about their discomfort.)

As her caregiver, that paints the whole picture without her having to say "I do this because..." When everything hurts, it's hard to be in a good mood. So Ivy, our almost-two-year-old kitten, pisses her off. Luna pisses her off. Katniss pisses her off. Kiki isn't being difficult. Kiki is in discomfort and doing her best. So we made adjustments to our living situation to accommodate for her needs.

That's the kind of thing a session surfaces — not just answers to your specific questions, but the fuller picture of what's actually going on beneath the behavior.

After I share what I received about their essence and their physical state, I ask your animal the specific questions you came in with. A lot of times those questions have already been answered, and we're just connecting the dots together.

When Nothing Comes Through Right Away

It doesn't happen much anymore, but occasionally an animal is slow to come forward. When that happens, I don't push. I take it as information about who they are.

They might be shy. They might be scared. They might be feral and have a very healthy distrust of strangers — which, honestly, fair.

So I sit with them. I warp time in my mind and stay with them for as long as it takes — hours if necessary, in the space of the session. I hold out my hand and let them come to me on their own terms. Sometimes I get the impulse to offer them a snack — in my mind's eye — and whatever appears in my hand turns out to be exactly their favorite food. It's a small thing that opens a big door.

You cannot rush an animal who isn't ready. You can only make yourself worth trusting.

The Unexpected

Sometimes what comes through surprises me as much as it surprises you.

I once did a session for my friend's mother, Jody. She wanted to know if her cat missed her recently deceased husband, Doug.

The cat said no.

I sat with that for a moment. How am I supposed to tell Jody her cat doesn't miss her husband? I thought. That's a little rude.

And then the cat clarified: I see him every day.

I sat with THAT for a moment. How am I supposed to tell her THAT? I don't even know if she believes in ghosts and the supernatural.

Well. I'm just the messenger. So I told her.

Her response: "I thought so. I've been seeing Doug walking down the hallway out of the corner of my eye."

I share this not to convince you of anything, but because it's the truth of what happened. This work takes me places I don't always expect to go. I've learned to trust what comes through even when — especially when — it surprises me.

Jody and Doug deserve their own full story, and I'll tell it properly another time.

Closing the Session

When we've worked through your questions, I check in one more time — is there anything else they want to share? Anything they need you to know? I drop back in as many times as necessary until we both feel complete.

Then I thank them. I mean it every time.

Every animal I've connected with has given me something — a laugh, a revelation, a gut punch of recognition, or sometimes just the quiet gift of being trusted with their inner world. That never gets old.

A Few Practical Things

All sessions are conducted remotely via Zoom or by phone. Your animal stays exactly where they're most comfortable — on the couch, in their bed, losing their mind at the mailman. It doesn't affect the connection.

If you have more than one animal and want to understand the dynamics between them, that's what a pack reading is for. [What Is a Pack Reading?]

And if what comes through points to something physical that needs attention, I'll always encourage you to follow up with your vet. I'm not diagnosing. I'm describing. Your vet is your partner, not my competition.

Ready to find out what your animal companion has been trying to tell you? [Book a session!]