Of all the animals I’ve learned from, Fendi was my best teacher. A 7-year old Irish Wolfhound, she was a retired show dog with a gentle disposition -- she always seemed happy, whether sleeping in the house or running on the beach. My first introduction to Fendi was four years ago when I was visiting her home, a two-story house in which she claimed the upstairs landing as her hangout. It was spring and the front door was opened and happened to be in a position of blocking the foot of the stairs. I heard a sound and looked up and saw Fendi standing at the bottom of the stairs, stuck because the open door was blocking her way, not realizing she had the strength to not only push the door aside, but, if she had the mind to, knock it down. But she was too much of a lady to want to inconvenience a door. I fell in love with her right then and there.

Last October, I was asked to work on another dog in her household but during my visits I always worked on Fendi, too, because she had arthritis in her right rear leg [as diagnosed by her vet] that caused her to limp occasionally. As I continued to work on her almost weekly for two months, her limp got more pronounced which surprised me because, while arthritis can be slow to heal with Reiki, my experience had been that animals almost always improved or at least maintained, but never got worse.

By late December, every time I worked on her I got the very strong feeling that it was not arthritis causing her problems. I occasionally use a pendulum to ask “yes” and “no” questions about health issues with my clients. But each time I consulted a pendulum and asked if Fendi had arthritis, I got a “yes.” It turns out I was asking the wrong question.

The last weekend in January I ran into her owner and asked how Fendi was doing, since when I saw her the week before she seemed uncomfortable. He said she was basically operating on three legs, her leg was very swollen and that he was going to call the vet the next day, Monday, to schedule another acupuncture appointment. I said I’d come work on her the next day, for which he was grateful. I found Fendi hopping around the house on three legs and her right rear leg was not only swollen but discolored. She tried to lay down a few times but got up right away, as if she were unable to get comfortable. I called her owner and asked if he’d called the vet, which he had, but the vet couldn’t see her for acupuncture for another week. I told him I didn’t feel Fendi could wait a week; she needed to see the vet right away. He took my advice and got an appointment for Wednesday – I was disappointed it wasn’t sooner, but at least it wasn’t a week off.

On Wednesday I asked him to call me after he saw the vet. The call I got didn’t really surprise me; although I didn’t know what was wrong, by this time I was certain it was serious. Fendi had advanced osteosarcoma [bone cancer] and there was really no option but to put her down. Most Wolfhounds have a life expectancy of 6-7 years and she was seven. I went to the veterinary clinic immediately and gave Reiki to Fendi for the last half hour of her life. She went out with dignity, surrounded by those who loved her.

The lessons I learned were profound. The first was to trust my intuition; by December, I didn’t believe arthritis was the cause of her problem but I deferred to the vet’s diagnosis and didn’t say anything to her owners. If I’m in a similar situation in the future, I’ll suggest that the animal’s human return to the vet for another look. I also learned that the question I should have asked the pendulum was not whether Fendi had arthritis, because she probably did, but rather, “is there something other than arthritis affecting her leg?” Diagnosing her cancer sooner wouldn’t have saved Fendi’s life, but it would have saved her much pain.

The other lesson was that, out of their deep love for their animals, humans sometimes go into denial about the seriousness of an illness, and it is up to us as Reiki practitioners to urge them to go to the vet if we feel there is more wrong than meets the eye. Wolfhounds are a very stoic breed and Fendi never complained even though she must have been suffering greatly. Her humans were trusting she had arthritis and waiting for larger and larger doses of arthritis medication to take effect. Several years ago I had a cat whose health failed dramatically over the course of two days; he had two seizures and a heart attack after an undiagnosed tumor burst. Much later as I was framing the last photo ever taken of him, I could see how much thinner he was than during the prime of his life. But while he was alive, I never noticed – I always saw him as my handsome hero. It would have been a blessing if an objective third party had told me, “you know, he looks like he’s lost a lot of weight. Perhaps you should have his vet check him.”

As animal Reiki practitioners, part of our role is to be an advocate for the animals we are blessed to know. They can’t speak up for themselves, so we have an obligation to speak for them when we suspect there’s more going on than their vets and owners have perceived. It means walking a fine line of diplomacy, but we owe them no less.

About the Author: Nancy O’Donohue is a Reiki Level III Master/Teacher who treats humans, pets and horses in southwestern Michigan. Please visit her website at www.LakeshoreHealing.com.