I sat in the dentist's chair this morning sharing a story with the hygienist, just after my friend Alfred Hartkopf, the dentist who owns the practice, momentarily left the room.
I'd also like to mention that Alfred offered to come in the office today, which is Wednesday, his usual weekday off.
I noticed that the hygienist was humming to a song being piped through the office's music-speaker system, and when the song ended, I recognized the DJ, Steve, by his characteristic deep voice, a gentleman who was fairly popular in Northwest Ohio, whom I had met at a fairly large humane society fundraiser for which he was master of ceremony.
I chuckled to myself then started explaining to the hygienist how Steve had announced my presence at the event, encouraging one and all to stand in line to experience the ‘novelty' of animal-human telepathy, courtesy of the ‘pet psychic,' [me], promising that he would do the same the first chance he got.
"Oh boy!" I thought pensively, "If I don't hit an intuitive target with him and his dog, I'll end up with the kind of promotion no animal communicator covets," as I strained to catch sight of him, in order to recognize him before he got in line. However, because of his recent announcement over the air, suddenly there were so many people standing by for a reading, I wasn't able to catch a glimpse of him from where he stood.
"Oh, well," I thought, "maybe it's for the best."
Time passed and the line moved along proficiently, thanks to Leanne, a very skillful telepathist that I had been mentoring for the past two years in animal communication at her shaman's request and with his personal blessing.
Before I knew it I was speaking with a beautiful dog, Sue, and a tall man, named Steve.
Any way, the dog, Sue, went on bragging to me about how beautiful Steve's wife is. I stopped talking to Sue momentarily to explain to Steve how much his dog, Sue, loved watching his beautiful wife applying cosmetics every morning. Steve said, "Oh really?" as he smiled at the dog, generously massaging Sue behind the ears.
After a little while longer, I admitted to Steve, the dog's owner, that Sue had nothing more to say, other than she was very happy that Steve and his wife rescued her from a shelter, blessing the second half of her life with renewed trust in the goodwill of man/womankind
Because the detail Sue offered was meaningful to her and also seemed meaningful to Steve, her owner, I ended the conversation, deducing that I'm never in a position to qualify an animal's commentary as being more or less mundane versus earth-shattering?" This is a philosophy of mutual respect, a contractual agreement presented by the universe and maintained by the animal and human via telepathy (also an aspect of metatelepathy), so that we honor and respect another point of view.
Twenty minutes later, I hear that deep familiar voice again booming over the speakers filling the park's auditory atmosphere with astonishment conveying his recent encounter with the ‘pet psychic,' explaining to those at the event as well as his large listening audience throughout Northwest Ohio and Southeastern Michigan.
He went on to explain, how the ‘pet psychic' accurately described his dog's fascination for his wife, especially during her morning routine applying cosmetics.
Of course, I had that deer caught in headlights expression as I over heard this loud and generous tribute Steve, the DJ offered as a testament to my "wonderful ability," and, so, of course, I was happy for him and relieved for myself, finally free to "throw off" that "self-inflicted-pressure-to-perform" energy.
About 45 minutes later a tall attractive Caucasian woman was standing in front of me with a picture of her beloved pet in hand, being ready for her turn to enjoy the insight from human-animal telepathy.
She started off by saying, "You work with pictures right?"
"Yes, surely!" I responded, accepting the picture she placed in my hand.
She replied, "Oh, good! She is alive (on the earth plane) by the way, and I'm interested in whatever she tells you. In other words, I have no questions."
"Okay," I said. "Let's get started!"
Looking at the picture and taking a "fresh and recent" sample of the dog's energy from the photograph, I began explaining:
"Your dog really loves you, and thinks you are very pretty...in fact, so pretty, that she does not want to ever mess up your pretty clothes and cover up your beautiful perfume with her own doggie smell..." I laughed a loud, quite astonished over this dog's fixation and desire to be courteous and considerate.
And then looking up from the photograph, my eyes fell into the woman's saddened gaze as I continued, "But you don't want it that way, do you? You want to be physically approached by the dog and would rather get a nice long wet lick across the face from time-to-time. Is my perception of you and your sweet doggie accurate?" I offered wanting to console her.
"Yes," she said looking and feeling dissatisfied, "but if she, my dog, only knew how much I'd love that she come up and, just like you said, Bryan, give me one big wet lick, like she does my husband; I'd be so thrilled," she said desparate for canine-affection.
"I'll tell what..." I said rubbing my chin with a plan in mind, "I'll explain this to the dog, and let's see what she says, so hold on," I told the woman as I closed my eyes to concentrate.
"There!" I said opening my eyes wide with excitement, "She's going to start giving you a lick. It'll be hard at first, but give her time, so she can get used to it!"
The woman burst in contagious, infectious laughter making me giggle too, and so, I was happy for her.
I continued, "It's settled then," as I gently placed the photo back into the palm of her hand, while accepting the five dollar bill from the other hand, shoving the money into the Humane Society's coffer.
"One more question," I asserted as Leanne, my apprentice, stepped forward to wait on the next group in line.
"Yes?" the tall attractive woman asked with gratitude.
"What did you say your dog's name is?"
"Oh, yes," she flashed a coy smile answering with playful relunctance,
"Well, I never told you," she looked behind her pointing an index finger in direction of the man on stage, who was both master of ceremony and radio Disc Jockey. "Steven is my husband, and my dog's name is Sue."
"Do you understand now?" she said testing my true psychic ability.
I responded rhetorically, "Okay, this is what we call a ‘gotcha moment.' Right?"
"Exactly!" she said walking away, "Thank you and God Bless you!"
"And also with you!" I said basking in the irony and serendipity of the whole experience. "There goes the other side of the proverbial coin." I admitted
The End.