I was skeptical. But I was also curious. Doesn’t every pet owner want to know what that bark or meow means, or what our pet is trying to tell us with their quirky behavior? So when I had the opportunity to speak with Lynn Schuster, animal communicator (Schuster resists being called a “psychic”), for this article, I couldn’t pass it by.
If I had consulted a communicator on my own, that would mean that I believed that humans and pets are capable of telepathic communication. But the guise of writing about it allowed me to speak with Schuster without suspending my disbelief.
My objective stance did not last long. Ten minutes into our conversation, I was entranced by Schuster’s interpretation of what’s bugging my cat Skwirl, and what his sister Bunny thinks about all of his complaining.
In preparation for a consultation, I emailed Schuster photos of the cats and filled out a form with some details, including where I got them (they were rescues), plus a list of my questions and concerns.
Based in the Sturgeon Bay area, Schuster has been doing this type of work fulltime since 2014. She feels she was born with a telepathic ability, but that she “shut it down” when she was about 9 years old after realizing that some people found it strange that she could intuit animals’ thoughts. When Schuster embarked on a spiritual journey in the early 2000s, she rediscovered her ability to communicate with other species. Today, she is a Reiki practitioner and also leads workshops to help others develop their interspecies telepathic skills.
Over the phone – animal telepathy works that way – Schuster’s voice is soft, calm, reassuring. She tunes into Skwirl, a 14-year-old who has never seemed altogether comfortable in his skin, or fur, to be more precise. Later, when I ask her to explain the process, Schuster says that she does “deep belly breathing, then I state my intention to speak with Skwirl. When the animal is moving in my mind’s eye, then I know I have a connection.”
Sometimes she will hear the animal’s voice, which she describes as typically being childlike and innocent. Other times, she’ll see images. Often, she’ll receive a combination of the two.
“Skwirl is eager to talk,” she reports. I’m eager to listen. “She puts up with a lot” is his first message, the “she” being me. I find it gratifying that he knows that.
As it turns out, Skwirl has a lot of issues about being taken away from his mother when he was just 5 weeks old. “He would have liked to stay with her,” Schuster says. “She was a good mother.” To help him feel more secure, Schuster says, Skwirl would like me to pet the top of his head, making clockwise circles with my finger. “His mother used to lick that spot,” she tells me.
Unbeknownst to Schuster, Skwirl has a habit of raising the top of his head to my lips so that I can kiss him; he’ll do it again and again. I’ve had many cats, but none have exhibited this behavior.
At this point, my disbelief drifts away like stardust in a Disney movie. The fact that Schuster zeroed in on Skwirl’s sweet spot makes me believe all that she has to say.
When Schuster tunes into Bunny, it’s a completely different story. Much to my surprise, Bunny is a wise old sage with a philosophical view of life. But her impatience with her brother is at a breaking point.
“‘He needs to calm his ass down,’” Bunny tells me through Schuster, who adds, “That’s Bunny’s word, not mine.”
Can Schuster really communicate with animals? I have no idea. I do know this: Since our consultation, I’ve taken Schuster’s advice to pet the top of Skwirl’s head when he gets agitated. I’ve also made it a habit to close my eyes, breathe deep and tell both cats they are safe, they are loved and they are in their forever home.
And I have to say, Skwirl seems to be calming his ass down. Bunny and I are pleased.
Find out more about Lynn Schuster at animalspirittalker.com.