Note: My daughter, son, and I were returning home. I had a vision of a robbery in our home while we were out.
Excerpt from “The Life Of A Psychic Detective”, one of two times Ramona helped solve a crime.
I walked through the living room into the hall and stopped. To the left my bedroom door stood closed. I had left it open. To the right is a staircase leading up to the second floor. Ramona was waiting at the top of the steps. Beautiful Ramona, had come to us through a local shelter. Badly abused by her previous owner, she had a broken hip that had not been properly repaired, suffered seizures on an almost daily basis, and had the sweetest face. She was part collie, part shepherd, part mystery, and about 45 pounds of shy love. My children adored her.
She never hid her fear, barking at every new sound and smell. Now her eyes were as dark as tar. Her tail was swooped down and held tight. She always barked, even at us. She was so scared and so quiet. Slowly she came to me.
“Ramona, it’s mommy. It’s okay now. No one hurt you, did they?”
“No,” a strange voice inside my head answered. Years of working with animals, plus the loss of one very dear cat, has taught me to listen and believe. As I sat holding Ramona, my right hand stayed on top of her
head while I stroked her with my left hand. Closing my eyes to see, I was rewarded quickly. Internal vision and sound took over. I believe I was looking out from Ramona’s eyes. My palms opened in a gesture of healing. I prayed, ‘God, I ask to be a channel of light and love for all concerned, especially for Ramona whose fear is so strong.’
I hear sounds coming from my bedroom—Ramona running down the stairs, barking. The bedroom door began to close. Laughing, and stroking her, I knew what had happened.
”Ramona, you’re incredible. They were afraid of the big angry dog. I’m glad they locked the door. It would have been terrible if they hurt you.” Quivering as I spoke she was letting her fear out.
“Go to the kid’s sweetheart, they’ll take care of you.”
She turned and marched into the living room, tail a little bit higher, with a hint of a wag as she heard Rebecca’s voice calling her. I hate this, hate this, hate this. Why do people like making others afraid? Wake up anger, I need my anger to move me. I’m frozen at the door. Deep breath. Good. Another deep breath. I put my hand on the door.