The Pet Psychic

By Gus Hooker

It’s me, Gus. I’m writing this post because otherwise, you might think the hu-mom is bit on the crazy side. But, she’s already admitted to be “the Crazy Dog Lady” and she owns her crazy. All of it – from painting the downstairs bathroom a deep forest green to wearing Birkenstocks with socks. She owns it.

Speaking with a pet psychic isn’t crazy. We, the Hooker Horde, did it a few weeks ago.

First, did you know that everyone is born with the ability to communicate with guides, angels and animals? The thing is, adults convince us that we can’t. They tell us “stop talking to your imaginary friends,” when really, they are not imaginary at all.

So, I am dictating this to the hu-mom to type because I do not have opposable thumbs.

Because I lived in a puppy mill for three years, hu-mom wanted to know more about me.

Here’s what we learned about the Hooker Horde:

First, Booker was very loud and said, “I’m worried that the hu-mom is going to give me away.”

That broke hu-mom’s heart. She figured it was because we were driving back/forth and to/from the BONA’s (Balding Obese Narcissistic Alcoholic’s) house. Hu-mom left us alone there a few times. She even left us alone with him. 

Booker also said, “My back REALLY hurts.” For over a year, Booker’s back has bothered him. He’s taken Rimadyl and had laser therapy. But, his lumbar spine hurts. The pet psychic thought there could be a small fracture. He couldn’t jump up on the sofa.

Turns out he has spondolosis, a fusing of the vertebrae near his pelvis. Poor dude.

As for Faith, she said she gets hot. Of course she gets hot! She wears a BIG fur coat year round. In addition, she admitted that she could be a little bit bossy. I still love her the most because she was the first dog in the horde to protect me. 

When we were at the BONA’s without hu-mom, sometimes he or his girls would try to pet me. Faith moved right in between us.

Then, there’s Maude, our cat. All she had to say is that she’s fine. Period.

The pet psychic visited on May 10^th. That was during hu-mom’s zombie BHD (Broken Hearted Diet). The pet psychic talked to her about nutrition and noted that we need whole milk yogurt.

I stayed upstairs and on the landing for about forty-five minutes. The pet psychic is clairvoyant, too.

The living room was super crowded. Hu-mom’s guides showed up in force.

Smelling of pipe tobacco and with his horses, Grandpa Mac kept saying, “this wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t been adopted.” He blamed himself.

Two ladies with curly hair, hats and purses perched on the loveseat. Therefore, there really wasn’t room for me down there.

All of the guides said, “We’re glad the relationship ended. We were afraid it would go on longer and Julie would end up in the hospital or dead.” (I coulda’ told her that if she’d listened to me.)

Finally, when the room cleared, I came down and sat opposite hu-mom. She was on the sofa and I was on the loveseat.

I looked at her and the pet psychic translated. Even, the hu-mom lost her ability to communicate with us. Oh, she gets a lot of what we try to tell her, but misses some key things.

I said, “You’re beautiful. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

Then I told hu-mom, “I love you. I am the best boyfriend you’re going to have.”

I explained that I don’t like drama.

Finally, I asked, “Will you get those long stringy treats again, please?”

Unfortunately for me, she couldn’t remember what treats she bought. Fortunately, she bought every healthy treat she could find. It worked.