Clients sometimes ask me to talk to animals who aren’t their responsibility — animals of friends or family member or animals that they see regularly when they are out — who have issues that the person feels need to be addressed.
I certainly understand people’s desire to help, but I always tell clients that we need to have permission from the animal’s person before we talk to them so that we know that the client will be able to pass on the information the animal gives us and that the person will listen. If that’s not possible, then I can’t talk to the animal.
Most people understand my reasoning on this.
I learned the lesson on this many years ago when my now ex-husband and I were on a cruise to the Caribbean and participated in a “swim with the dolphins” excursion in Mexico. It turned out that “swim with the dolphins” was not what I expected on any level.
They took us to the location and split us into two groups. We were in the second group and had to wait in an upstairs area with an open balcony. I went to the edge of the balcony and saw that right below the balcony was a pool with a dolphin swimming circles in the pool.
I thought it might be an interesting experiment to see if I could make a connection to the dolphin and talk to him or her. I didn’t actually know if it would work — I wasn’t close to the dolphin and the dolphin couldn’t see me since I was above it, but I thought I’d give it a try.
No one could have been more surprised than me about the direction the conversation went. I did it as an experiment — I had no expectations of what the tone or content of the conversation would be, as is always the case when I talk to an animal.
I closed my eyes, connected to the dolphin and asked if I could talk to her. She said yes (the dolphin was definitely “she”) and I started asking some general questions. She was calm, relaxed and very interested in the conversation. It was clear to me that she had been trying to talk to other humans, but they couldn’t “hear” her.
I asked how the dolphin came to be in that place. She told me that she allowed herself to be captured in the ocean because she wanted to help the humans learn. Whether she literally “volunteered” to go with the humans who captured her or if that was just her way to accept in her mind/heart what happened, I can’t know. I only know what she told me. Perhaps that was what she decided after finding herself in the situation she was in – that she would teach the humans about dolphins.
The dolphin said she was well cared for and well fed. She told me she was ready to return to the ocean and asked that I tell the people in charge to let her go back to the sea. Clearly, there was no way that the people at the facility would listen to me if I told them what she wanted. I didn’t know what to say to the dolphin . . .
I asked the dolphin if she was unhappy in captivity. She said she was not unhappy with her situation – it was more like, she felt she had done enough teaching of humans and now wanted to leave. [Even humans often do a job for a period of time, then want to do something else, right?] She was very polite about this – not demanding. She wasn’t angry with the people who cared for her. I have no doubt that she accepted her fate. But by connecting with her and asking her about her life, I opened a door that had previously been closed. I was a human who could hear her and since humans were responsible for her wellbeing, she assumed that I could tell the other humans and that they would listen. This was not an unreasonable assumption on her part from her perspective.
But for me, it was one of the most heartbreaking things I’d ever experienced. Because I could talk to her, the dolphin trusted me and expected me to be able to help her. I had to tell her that I did not have the power to grant her wish to return to the sea.
She couldn’t understand why this could be, after all, I was talking to her. I could feel how upset and disappointed she became when I said I couldn’t help her. I didn’t know what to do. I again asked if she was well cared for and well fed. She assured me that she was, but she wanted to go home to the ocean. I told her I was so, so sorry — but I couldn’t help her with her request.
It occurred to me that maybe I was imagining this. After all, why wouldn’t a dolphin want to return to the sea? I was really starting to doubt myself.
I opened my eyes at that point and looked at the dolphin. On the long side of the tank, she was swimming on her side — looking right at me with her eye on that side – but on the short sides, she turned back so she was swimming with her dorsal fin up. I couldn’t believe it – it was amazing. I stopped doubting the communication we were having.
I thanked the dolphin for talking to me and apologized again for not being able to help her. She finally said that she understood and that it wasn’t my fault . . . but I felt it really was my fault, because I was the one who connected to her without the permission of the people who were responsible for her care. As soon as I ended my connection to the dolphin, she turned in the water and started swimming dorsal fin up all the way around the tank.
I realized that my husband had come over at some point while I was talking to the dolphin and was standing next to me. I asked if he saw the dolphin swimming on her side while I talked to her. He said she was doing that the whole time I talked to her.
Then it was my turn in the dolphin pool. As it worked out, the dolphin I was working with was the one I had talked to. Somehow, that didn’t come as a surprise to me. The “swimming with the dolphins” meant standing in the pool while the dolphin went through a series of “tricks” with the person in the pool as directed by a dolphin trainer.
I could tell the dolphin was upset/frustrated – not in the mood for the tricks, but she did everything that was asked of her, until the end. For the last “trick,” I was directed stretch my arm out on the surface of the water and the dolphin was supposed to swim up and “lay” her head/neck on my arm. She was just not into it — she laid her snout on my arm several times. The trainer made her do it over and over because she wasn’t “doing it right.” I could feel her frustration mounting and I knew it was my fault that she felt that way, because of our conversation.
I told the trainer that she didn’t have to do it right for me. He said she did have to do it right and he’d keep asking her to do it until she did it right. I talked to the dolphin and told her that if she would just do the trick correctly, she’d be done. She did it again – perfectly this time — and the trainer released her back to her pool. I was so relieved!
Needless to say, I never saw that dolphin again, but I think of her often. I have to hope that somehow the dolphin was able to accept her fate and live as happily as possible in captivity after our encounter. I very much hope I didn’t ruin her life by opening a door that should have remained closed.
This is why I don’t talk to animals without the permission of the animal’s person. I feel that by talking to an animal, I’m telling them I can help — but if I can’t pass on the information to the person responsible for the animal, a conversation could make them more unhappy with their situation.
You may feel differently about this and other communicators may feel differently about this situation – and that’s OK. But I just don’t feel I can disappointment and frustrate another animal who has put their trust in me.
