Wednesday, October 02, 2013

Elephant, AC and Your Dog's Last Lives

I'm pretty excited because this morning I have a little article up on called "Things Yoga Students Are Dying to Tell Their Teachers But Never Will." I am so excited about it that I can hardly stand it, and I hope you'll check it out and enjoy it.

Now in other news, I realized this week that I'm getting old and here's why. Sunday afternoon I stumbled over some junk in my closet and fell into a clothes rack in what seemed like a total non-event. I swear, it was the least dramatic, no big deal sort of incident and so I forgot about it. Until I woke up the next morning. And wow, the pain in my shoulder, a place I've never had pain before. It still hurts three days later. I swear, next thing you know I'm going to have to get a Life Alert and then I'll be breaking my hip.

I haven't gone to yoga all week either because my AC broke and yes, I know it's October, but I live in Florida and here, it's still a sticky 88 degrees, so be quiet about my first world problems. The AC repair man, for two days straight could only come during the time I usually go to yoga, but that's not the point of this story. The point is that I am an Air Conditioning Psychic. Yes. On Monday I sensed that the problem was the compressor, as if I have a freaking clue what a compressor even is, but somehow I just knew it was the compressor. Don't ask me how. Guess what? It was the compressor. The guy put in a new one. Worked a few hours and yesterday the AC went out again. This time my special powers sensed that the problem was electrical. Right again. We need a new breaker. I don't know what a breaker is. If you put a breaker and a compressor in front of my face I'd have no idea what either of them were, yet somehow, somehow I knew that was what was wrong with my AC. I think I hear the Twilight Zone theme playing.

Saturday, my friend from Atlanta came to visit and we had the most perfect beach day in maybe ever and as we sat on the beach eating papayas and mangoes freshly picked from my yard, while Little Lawns dug in the sand and had a grand old time with herself, we caught up and talked about all kinds of wonderful things. That's how I got the idea for my new career.

My friend is a far nicer person than I am in just about every single way and she told me the most touching story about how she rescued an elderly, deaf boxer from the pound because the dog didn't stand a chance. I was just about in tears from that part alone, but then she told me that every morning she massages the dog (she is a massage therapist and very much like Phoebe from Friends) and feeds the dog good food and makes sure that her last years are her best. I was weeping by this point. But the-en, my friend told me that she took the dog to psychic.

The pet psychic told her all about the dog's life before she was adopted and where she came from and how she felt and apparently my friend and the dog knew each other in a past life, although I was unclear on this part of the story because was the dog still a dog in its past life or a person or what? How does that work exactly? I was kind of under the impression that people only reincarnated as people and maybe that animals didn't reincarnate at all? So with dogs is it like people? You know how everyone thinks they were Cleopatra in a past life? Do all dogs think they were Lassie in their past life? And if you took a Lab through a past life regression would it be all like "I'm a brindle bulldog, I'm running beside a covered wagon. There are two little girls. Ma is frying salt pork. Pa is playing his fiddle." And suddenly you'd realize "OH MY GOD! My dog was Jack from the Laura Ingalls books!!" 

Anyway, I'm getting off on a tangent here. Back to that pet psychic thing. I totally need to give up this whole writing thing and be a pet psychic. What a simple and rewarding job, especially for a writer, since we have brilliant imaginations. I mean, seriously, you could say anything and it's not like the dog could argue with you and be like "Umm, no. Actually, I wasn't given as a gift to a blind child in her Christmas stocking. I was born to some rednecks in a trailer and then I escaped because I smelled some poop and I wanted to eat/roll in it and the dog catcher got me." Forget about cats. You could say anything about a cat and if you were wrong all they'd do is roll their eyes and walk away, which is what cats do anyway so no one would know the difference. You could say ANYTHING. And people would pay you!

Of course, as a pet psychic, I would only say extremely positive, uplifting things because that's what people want to hear and if someone's paying you good money to tell them a bunch of unprovable stuff to make them feel better about their pet's past lives, then you should give them their money's worth. Right? So it's not like I'd be unethical or anything.

So how do I become a pet psychic, I wonder? Is there like special pet psychic certification or licensing I need or can anyone just declare themselves a pet psychic and go on with their bad selves? Maybe I just need a pay pal account.

Hey, remember about ten years ago or so there used to be a Pet Psychic show on TV? Whatever happened to her? She was an older, British lady.

So, if anyone needs me to diagnose their malfunctioning air conditioners or to give their dog a past life regression, please let me know in the comments section and I'll do a reading for you. For a hundred bucks, of course.


JoeinVegas said...

Wait a minute - you can't just pretend to be a pet psychic - you really have to be able to communicate with the pet, and be truthful. Made up things? NO!!!!!!

JoeinVegas said...

Wait a minute - you really have to be able to communicate with animals if you are going to be a pet psychic. Making things up - NO!

mcgrim said...

I'd pay good money if you could do a sage smudging to exorcise the demons from my '99 Malibu.

Terri said...

brit lady is on stars entertainment on xm radio. join her!

Anonymous said...

The Brit Lady (can't remember her name either) wrote book that had some really comforting things in it if you have to have your pet "put down". She really relieved the guilt about the whole thing.

jenjellybeans said...

I visualized an aging, hard of hearing man in satin boxing shorts when I read this:

"she rescued an elderly, deaf boxer"

If you come to Minnesota during the Wilder Fest, you can tell many, many people that their dog was Jack, and you will rake in the big bucks. Enough to buy a new slate, a poke bonnet, AND Christmas candy.

Ashley said...

I actually really recommend that you read Gina Gershon's memoir, In Search of Cleo: How I Found My Pussy and Lost My Mind. It actually does involve a pet psychic and it's amazing.

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