Venus, page 4
I nod.
‘A stream of prayer went up for us to help the animals and we used some of the energy to direct that desperate dog to his new owner, because we knew she would care for it.’ I find myself smiling and wag my tail with hope. ‘No prayer is ever wasted, you know,’ my angel reminds me.
She continues, ‘The way humans treat animals is holding back the ascension of the planet and they have to change. But there’s hope. The huge portal for animals at Yellowstone in the USA started to open in 2012. It’s beginning to radiate a glorious yellow light, which will directly help animals. The energy from it will also touch the minds of humans and help them to understand that all creatures are on their own soul journeys and must be treated with honour and respect.
‘Many animals are more evolved than humans. You are here on Earth experiencing life instinctively through your right brain and your heart, while most humans are mainly rational and use their minds rather than their hearts. It would help animals so much if everyone invoked Archangel Fhelyai, the Angel of Animals, and asked his angels to watch over every single creature in the world.’ She pauses.
‘By the way,’ she smiles now, ‘the Angel of Animals radiates exactly the same shade of yellow as the Yellowstone portal.’
Mum and I imagine a golden, sunny yellow touching all the animals in the world and we feel much happier.
13 August
I have always understood that the woods belong to me and that I generously allow other dogs to share them with me. Today two black miniature poodles bark at me, so I run straight back to Mum. Why are they so mean? I wish my Alsatian friend, Michael, was here; he’d see them off for me. I shout after them, ‘These are my woods, so there!’
And the cheeky things respond, ‘No they’re not. They’re our woods and we let you walk here.’ I know they’re wrong and they are just saying that, but I still feel frustrated.
Another thing about me: I’m the fastest runner in the woods. You have no idea how nippy and quick I am. I race up to all the big dogs and everyone thinks I’m brave, but Mum says I’m a naïve puppy and I should be more respectful. Then she says some devastating words: ‘These woods belong to everyone, Venus.’
‘What? You must be wrong. Surely they belong to me!’ I respond.
My angel adds in a gentle whisper. ‘No one owns nature. It’s for everyone… the birds, the butterflies, the bees, all the animals… and people.’
Oh!
I’m such a fast runner. I race up to a black Labrador and sniff its bottom and then run back to Mum very quickly. Then I do the same thing to a spaniel. It’s great to be a sprinter and no one can catch me. I’m the fastest dog in the world!
Oh my goodness, a terrifying thing has just happened. I sneak up to a thin, half-starved looking dog to sniff it, knowing I’ll have loads of time to run back to safety, but it spins round and charges after me. It bounces right over me and I squeal with terror. I only just reach Mum in time. My heart’s thumping, my confidence is shattered. Can it be that I’m not the fastest dog in the forest, after all? Mum picks me up and cuddles me. She says I‘m a great runner for my size, but that there are dogs with very long legs specially designed for speed, and I’ve just encountered one – it’s a greyhound.
I‘m deflated for a moment, but my angel touches my paw gently and reminds me that I’m part terrier and I can sniff out rabbits better than any Daddy Long-legs dog. She says every animal has its own special qualities.
16 August
What delight! I see Michael and his owner further along the path and I run towards him with my tail wagging joyfully. But there’s another dog with them, the Greek rescue mongrel, a big, mean wolf-like creature, though not as huge as Michael. As I get nearer I can tell that the new animal doesn’t like me. He growls menacingly and in a desperate move I throw myself onto my back and slither under Michael from quite a distance. Apparently, he looks rather surprised! Then the Greek rescue mutt, who’s called Jack, tries to get at me, growling and barking. But my wonderful Michael puffs out his fur and makes himself enormous to protect me. He barks at Jack, an unexpectedly rich, deep warning sound, and sees him off. Oh thank you, Michael, my rescuer!
Michael has a bright blue light around him. My angel says it’s because he’s connected to Archangel Michael, the mighty archangel of strength and protection. I was right.
18 August
I’m grateful that Mum doesn’t call me funny names. We meet a dog whose Mum is calling it Puffy Wuffy and Woo-woo Bear. I’m cringing inside, but the dog says she’s used to it and it doesn’t bother her any more. It would bother me!
19 August
It’s hot again today and we get up early to go into the forest to hunt again. Well, I’ll be the one hunting. I love to pursue anything that moves. I race everywhere like lightening while Mum merely meanders. Sometimes she looks round to check that no one is around, then she jogs a little way, panting and puffing. It’s pathetic really! As for White Lightning Venus, I’m sure I’ll soon be so fast I’ll catch a squirrel.
22 August
Mum’s grandchildren, Kailani and Taliya, are coming today and I must say that children are much easier to cope with when there are only one or two of them, especially if one is a baby. Mum and Kailani play in the sandpit, so I lie in the shade near them. None of us notices Brutus watching from behind a tree. Suddenly, claws outstretched and tail twitching, he leaps across the sandpit and grabs a mouse that is hiding in a plant, and runs off with it. Wow! I never even saw it. Kailani is thrilled. She keeps repeating in an excited voice, ‘Brutus gobble mouse!’
But hang on! That cat didn’t even chase the mouse. As a terrier, I thought running fast was the only way to catch something. Maybe my way isn’t the only way to do things? Perhaps sometimes there’s another way?
24 August
As we come out of our drive today, we see Michael and that Greek rescue mongrel walking past on their way to the woods. They spot me and nearly pull their owner over as they swivel round to try to reach me. They are so strong, she simply can’t hold them back. When they reach me, I slither underneath Michael, my hero. I don’t understand why Mum thinks that’s funny.
Michael seems to think he has to protect me and he refuses to move. His owner can’t budge him. I feel quite safe and happy under him, but eventually Mum pulls me unceremoniously out and we walk on ahead.
When we reach the forest she lets me off the lead and says, ‘There you go Eeny Veeny!’ I cringe and hope Michael doesn’t hear. I’m not Eeny Veeny. I am Venus.
A little cluster of kind fairies observes my distressed and battered ego, so they sing my name with love. ‘Venus we love you. Venus we love you.’ The vibration flows over me like honey and I soon feel soothed and loved. The world is a wonderful place again!
Chapter 7
The New Lodger
2 September
It has been a long hot summer and I’ve played in the garden every day. This morning Mum opens the back door and grey wet stuff is falling from a grumpy sky. I put my nose out then jump back in alarm. I look at Mum questioningly. She responds. ‘It’s rain, Venus. The garden needs it, but you have to go out and do a wee.’
‘What? You expect me to go out in that! No way.’ I stand solidly inside the door and cannot be persuaded to budge. In the end she carries me out into the torrent and puts me down on the lawn where I reluctantly and hastily do what I have to do and run back indoors again, drenched.
Mum seems positively cheerful and says that we must be grateful for the deluge. Not only is it watering the plants, it’s filling up the reservoirs with drinking water and cleansing the area of lower vibrations. She holds up her hands and blesses the falling water, then with her finger draws a five-pointed star in the air with a circle around it. To my amazement the water becomes silvery and twinkly – it’s beautiful to watch as it lights up and glows.
Just when I’m feeling safe, Mum pulls on Wellington boots and a mac with a hood, gets out my lead and expects to take me out for a walk. In this? Unbelievable. I put on my most miserable expression while she half drags me down the path. A veritable stream is splashing off me. At last she says, ‘Walks are meant to be fun, Venus. If you really don’t want to go, let’s get back indoors.’
Thank goodness.
Sometimes you have to insist on doing what is best for you.
3 September
Mum says that I make her laugh, but really she’s the one who is funny. This morning she says she has to do some yoga practice – whatever that is – before she goes downstairs. She lies on the floor on her back and is performing strange contortions with her legs.
I crawl to the edge of the bed and peep over to watch her. She can only see my ears and eyes as I stare down at her. Apparently this is amusing and she starts to giggle. Then she circles her arms on the ground. That is too much for me. I jump off the bed and run after them, trying to lick her hands as they move. Clearly, this is a new game and I’m meant to participate, but she seems to disagree and tries to push me away. She soon gives that up and gets onto her hands and knees to do the cat pose! The cat! I leap onto her back and she collapses laughing and says it’s impossible to do yoga with me around.
I peep down at Mum
Evening
No wonder she was doing some exercises this morning. This evening she has brought me to her yoga class. It’s the first session after the summer holidays. When they see me everyone says, ‘Aah! Isn’t she gorgeous!’ and they all stroke me. I smile and graciously accept the adulation.
Mum eases me into my travel carrier while the yoga participants all spread out mats and sit on them. I observe them holding some of the weird positions that Mum was attempting this morning. Soon my eyelids start to close with boredom, so I stretch out and go to sleep. When I wake up, the room is quite dark and everyone is sitting cross-legged, with their eyes closed. My eyes fly open wide in astonishment. Everyone is surrounded in beautiful shining light, mostly light blue and lilac or gold. It’s shimmering around them and is quite breathtaking. Wow, if that’s what yoga does, I’m going to practise with Mum.
5 September
Mum is stuck into those puppy-training books again. Oh dear. That feels ominous. She keeps putting the book of the moment down and scrutinizing me. I rest my paw on her knee and cock my head to one side so that she laughs, but then she resumes her reading and comments, ‘I have to learn how to discipline you so that you grow up to be an obedient dog. Spiritual discipline is the basis for a happy life.’
My angels nod approvingly. Oh no!
6 September
A friend asks if a young man she knows can stay here for a while. He’s desperate for somewhere to live. I send Mum a message telepathically not to be a rescuer, but she ignores me. Her angel is whispering into her ear, though she’s not listening.
She says blithely, ‘Of course, there’s plenty of room.’ She’s sure the universe must want her to help him.
Her angel is shaking her head. Has Mum forgotten that victims always end up punishing the person who rescues them? What are we setting ourselves up for, I wonder?
10 September
The new lodger arrives – a short, cheeky ‘wide boy’, though he’s no youngster. He rushes in like a tornado, boasts he’s a brilliant healer and proclaims to Mum and Elisabeth, ‘If you’ve got anything wrong with you, I’ll heal you. I’ll bring your frequency up!’ They look at each other and somehow avoid replying.
But he does have a saving grace: he really likes me.
11 September
You won’t believe what happens this morning. The new lodger makes a fuss of me, then suggests to Mum, ‘I’ll give you a game of table tennis.’
‘Okay,’ she replies.
The new lodger says, ‘Of course, it’ll be a bit boring for me because you won’t get a point off me.’
I look at Mum. Her jaw has tightened, but she smiles blandly. They play three games and she wipes the floor with him.
Then do you know what? I can hardly believe it. He shrugs and sniggers, ‘To tell the truth I didn’t think an old lady could move that fast.’
I nip behind a chair and watch. Again Mum says nothing, though there are daggers in her aura. What restraint, I think and assume that is the end of the matter.
12 September
Mum and the new lodger are in the kitchen. He says to her. ‘I’ve been thinking about joining a table tennis club, so we could play together.’
Hmmm, I think, ears cocked.
‘But I thought if I did, I’d soon be much better than you. Then you wouldn’t be able to give me a game and it wouldn’t be any fun for me.’ Mum is totally silent, which is unusual. There’s nothing like arrogance to create a frost in the air.
Later she strokes me quietly, ‘I’m trying very hard to be open-minded about the new lodger, Venus. I’m sending him unconditional love and blessing him.’ I give her a sympathetic lick. She would be better to send him packing.
14 September
Megan, the aromatherapist and dog guru (in Mum’s opinion), comes for coffee. This time her advice is that after my morning walk I must be left in a cage for an hour to get used to being on my own. She even says that I should sleep downstairs in this cage thing and not be let out until the morning. Grrr again! She has a dog who lives in the kitchen and doesn’t go into the sitting room. I’ve got to make sure that doesn’t happen to me.
In the afternoon Mum goes shopping to buy a cage and she puts it up in the kitchen. She throws a treat into it. I nip in and grab it, then run in and out all afternoon. It’s quite a fun place.
At bedtime Mum lures me into the cage, but when I turn to go out, the door is shut! Is this a joke? I rattle the lock and whine. After half an hour Mum says she can’t bear it any longer. She phones Megan who says she must persevere. Surely not overnight?
15 September
Yes, I’m in the cage all night. It’s like a prison. I rattle the lock and paw at the bars, and Mum comes down several times to check on me but she doesn’t let me out. This is terrible. I wish the angels would tell me what to do, but they are observing silently.
17 September
I was just manoeuvring into top-dog position and now Mum’s ruining it all. It’s another day of food removal and short, horrid periods of imprisonment in the cage. Nevertheless, I don’t let up for a moment with the rattling and whining. I can tell Mum hates it, too, so I’m sure I’ll wear her down soon.
The darkest hour is before the dawn they say and it’s true. The most dreadful thing happens tonight. I’m put in my cage in the kitchen and I whine and bark. The kitchen is right under the new lodger’s bedroom. He comes down to tell me off. The noise I make even wakes Mum, who hurries downstairs, too. The new lodger says to me, ‘I’ve had enough of you. I’m putting you in the garage.’ And he picks the cage up and swaggers with it to the garage. Mum follows rather reluctantly with me. He puts me in the cage and I whimper. It’s cold and frightening and lonely in here and I’m not used to it.
Mum says, ‘You’ll be all right, Venus. I’ll see you in the morning.’ She leaves me and goes back to bed.
And then something really terrifying happens. The new lodger puts big cardboard sheets around the cage. It becomes pitch dark and airless, like a prison cave. I creep into the corner and make myself small. I want to die.
18 September
Mum comes down early looking as if she hasn’t slept a wink and rushes straight to the garage. I hear her but I think I must be such a bad puppy that I cringe in the corner and don’t move. She opens the cage door, calling me. Eventually I crawl out on my tummy, looking piteous. Mum is distraught. She cuddles me and says nothing like that will ever happen to me again. She’s furious about the cardboard and cross with herself for letting me be put in the garage. She takes me into the garden and we sit and cuddle, but I still have that cold feeling inside me.
After breakfast Mum takes down the cage and puts it away. ‘From now you sleep in my room,’ she says. I lick her gratefully and we go straight out for a lovely long walk in the forest. I jump over ditches and bark at squirrels. My inner sun is shining again.
21 September
Once again Mum is reading those darned books on puppy training. She announces, ‘Venus, this book says I have to eat first and feed you afterwards. You have to sit and wait.’ Oh what will today hold in the name of discipline?
It’s six o’clock and I haven’t had my supper yet. Mum is munching away at her food and I stare so hard at her she says it makes her feel uncomfortable. Good! At least that’s a sign I’m breaking down her resistance.
22 September
The stupid dog-training book reminds her that if I don’t eat my food immediately, it should be taken away. I thought I’d won that one ages ago, but here we go again. The thing is I’m a sensitive dog and I like quiet during my meals. With my delicate constitution I can’t be expected to consume food when there are people around. I like to wait until the kitchen is empty and then I can eat in peace.
After all, Mum keeps saying food represents nourishment and an offering of life from the universe, so it must be treated with respect.
23 September
Today, Mum reads that she should be able to take my food away from me while I’m eating, to show I’m below her in the pecking order! She exclaims aloud, ‘How crazy can you get!’ and I heave a sigh of relief. Thank goodness she won’t be inflicting that on me. I’d like to show that writer where she is in the pecking order!
