CHAPTER 5
After her first encounter with Fearless and the zone, Mom became increasingly proficient at entering it. When humans are distracted their eyes shift, a part of their body fidgets, and their breathing changes. As I observed Mom, she was spending less time distracted and more time focused. Now when she got upset or needed to figure out a problem, instead of pacing, she’d reach for one of us and start stroking.
I don’t want to give the impression that when Mom enters the zone she spaces out in a trance or is on the verge of falling asleep. She doesn’t sit cross-legged on the floor and hum deeply from her diaphragm. She just becomes tranquil. The more tranquil she becomes, the more clearly she can hear her inner voice. Some humans say they can hear their spirit speak. Others say they are listening to their heart.
I’ve observed that when people become tranquil, they become more sensitive to a critter’s response. They then are able to experience us critters in a unique way. Unfortunately, this is rare. I’m much more likely to hear a human say—“Hey, she’s just a dog.”
Mom never thought of us as “just” anything. In fact, last night, she kissed me and said, “Spunky, I feel so sorry for people who think a dog is just a dog. They don’t know what they’re missing.”
Mom is quick to tell people that I’m not “just a dog.” Folks will smile politely but they look at her as if she’s crazy. As far as they are concerned, they are looking right at me and there I am—obviously a dog. However, over time, they get to know me and can see for themselves how smart and delightful I am. Then inevitably I’ll hear them say, “You know Spunky is not just a dog. She is a big personality in a fur coat.”
How true, how true. Sometimes a dog is not just a dog.
Yes, our Mom is special. We knew this, but she still didn’t know she had the gift.
The second time Mom stumbled upon her gift was with me.
We were out walking in the park. There are several parks adjoining the campus. One of those is where Puppy Park is located. It’s a big field where a dog can take their human and also have a good romp. With the arrival of all the cats, Mom said I was entitled to my own special time to be with her and other dogs. So now, every day we head off to Puppy Park.
This particular day was better than usual. Mom had found a good home for Willy, the rescued pup, so today it was back to just the two of us. I for one was enjoying it immensely. I know it was important to teach Willy how to act properly around other dogs, but having to keep an eye on him had cramped my freedom to let loose and play. Now I was unburdened and loving every minute of it. Mom seemed to also be enjoying the return to our old ways. Her steps were livelier. She was looking up at the sky instead of watching for where the pup was. We both were having a delightful time.
“It’s really a grand day, Spunk. They don’t get much better than this. And since we don’t have any clients until later tonight, we can just take our time and enjoy it all we want.”
It was good to see her so happy. Sustaining her happiness has been a challenge. For example, we might be walking in the park and see a friend with a new little puppy. This always makes Mom happy. Puppies are adorable. There is an instantaneous surge of joy when she sees the puppy, but since Dad died, it tended to end more abruptly. As we walked off by ourselves, Mom might say, “Daddy sure would’ve liked that little one. It doesn’t seem right to be happy without him here to share it. In fact, Spunk, I feel guilty when I’m happy.”
You humans make a great deal out of this thing called guilt. How do I know? Because, you repeatedly try to make us feel guilty. Every canine friend I know has heard the “bad dog, shame on you” speech. Yes, our tail goes between our legs and we hang our heads. Do we feel guilty? Heck, no. We’re simply reacting to your anger and that finger of yours being stuck in our face! As soon as you change your tone, we’re fine. Guilt isn’t something critters relate to.
However, on this glorious day, Mom was guilt-free and feeling happy. We were both having a wonderful romp. The fact Mom was at such peace may have helped her gift activate more easily. She was able to hear my warning.
I noticed the man approaching us. His appearance didn’t alarm me. His clothes were neat and carried no unusual odors. He looked well groomed. His body language held no warning signs. Still, something wasn’t quite right. I couldn’t yet make it out. He slowed as he got within earshot.
“Excuse me, Miss, but my car ran out of gas just a block from here. I had to leave my wife and kids in the car. I know it sounds crazy but I simply don’t have any money on me. I’m trying to collect enough money to get some gas so we can get to our house on North Avenue. Could you please help me?”
I’ve never seen Mom turn away from helping another human. Even when she didn’t believe their story, she usually gave them something. In the past, she has told me, “I know he’s lying, but if he has to lie that badly he must really need the money.”
She paused. Her hand shifted slightly toward her pocket. Then I smelled it. Fear. The man was afraid. Fear has a distinctive smell and it isn’t a pleasant one. I slowly moved in closer. This man stank with fear. His right hand began moving toward Mom’s arm. Not one finger, but the whole hand. It started to open. His hand was ready to grab Mom. His eyes shifted to Mom’s money pocket. His muscles tensed. Now, his body language was threatening.
I growled. “Mom, don’t do it. Walk away. Walk away. Tell him there’s a cop right over there.”
In the past, Mom always scolded me for growling at a human, but not this time. Her hand backed away from her pocket. She began walking away. In a calm and sincere tone she said, “I’m very sorry, but I simply don’t carry any cash with me when I’m walking in the park. Maybe the police officer I saw right over there can help you. Good luck.”
She quickened her steps and put some distance between us and the man. She said nothing more about it. However, later that evening Mom realized what had happened.
As she was fixing our dinner, she watched the local news. The reporter told about a man in the park approaching people and asking for gas money. When a person pulled out a wallet, he snatched it and ran off. The police were still trying to find him. The newscast showed a police sketch of what the thief looked like.
Mom stood staring at the TV. She walked over to the table and sat down. Her mouth was open, her breathing accelerated.
“Spunky, did you hear that? Look, look at that picture. That’s the same man who approached us in the park.”
Then her eyes and her mouth opened even wider. “Spunky. You knew, didn’t you? It was you that got me to walk away. I was wondering where in heaven’s name I’d gotten that idea to tell him I’d just seen a cop. I hadn’t seen a police officer all day, but there I was telling him I’d just seen one. It must have thrown him off. He didn’t bother us at all. You saved us, Spunk! You were right there with me when I stopped at the ATM machine before we went to the park. You knew I had all that cash in my pocket. You knew, didn’t you?”
Of course I knew.
Mom sat on the floor. I cocked my head and stared deeply into her eyes. “You’re catching on, Mom.” I gave her two licks to the nose.
“Spunky, I don’t know how, but I heard your warning. I must have understood what was beneath that growl. Isn’t that amazing? How did you do it? Come on, Spunk, do it again—go ahead, say something.”
I wagged. Mom was staring so intently into my face it made me snort. I stared back. Soon I had her laughing. Poor thing, she didn’t yet understand it’s impossible to hear anything when you are trying so hard. You can’t make it happen by waving a magic wand or wiggling your nose. You have to be in that quiet place—the zone. Yet, despite her lack of knowledge on how to activate it, I was now certain, Mom indeed had the gift.
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Holly Lewitas established a career as a registered nurse. In 1990, she appeared in “Who’s Who of American Women.” A lifelong animal lover, she has learned many valuable lessons from furry creatures. For more information, please visit www.spunkymysterybooks.com.