Shortly after I was married I got my first Yellow Lab, Gentle Ben. For the next 13-plus years Ben worked on our farm with me. He had an uncanny ability to tell sick horses from healthy ones. Ben helped with every foaling. As soon as I’d let him, Ben would be in the stall cleaning the foal. Every mare allowed him access, which was astonishing.

When he was 13 1/2 years old Ben got sick. It was digestive and didn’t seem that serious. I slept downstairs with him, so I could be close if he needed help. After two days of intense care I thought he was improving. The next morning he stood over his breakfast dish, looked at me and slumped to the floor. “I can’t do this anymore.”

I turned cold with the realization that he was dying. I told my husband through uncontrollable tears, “I think I’m being selfish. It’s time for Ben to go Home.” Our dear friend and small animal vet quickly came to the farm. Gentle Ben’s wish was granted. I was crushed.

At the time I thought I’d had a knowing; that my imagination had created the words I needed to hear. Three years later I realized they were Ben’s words not mine. I was an animal communicator whether I was aware of it or not. Ben was showing me this with his last lesson for me.

Rainbow was born on a client’s horse farm three years after Ben died. I met the tiny kitten while there on a vet call. I had no need of another barn cat, so I pretty much ignored him. A few days later, we went back to the barn. This time the kitten sat close to me demanding not to be ignored again. His intense stare forced me to pick him up, but only to say hello; nothing more.

As soon as I looked into his eyes, I turned to my vet husband and said, “I love this kitten,” which surprised me because I wasn’t a cat lover, not like with dogs and horses. I had cats to deal with our farm’s rodent population. The barn owner gave me the kitten happy to be rid of another mouth to feed.

I’d been opening to the possibility of reincarnation through my newly-acquired skills in animal communication, so I asked if I’d known this kitten before. I was astonished by the answer I heard, “He’s Ben,” which explained my immediate and deep love for him. I was humbled and so happy that Ben was back, which started my tears flowing.

Over the years, even though Rainbow was a different species, I noticed numerous similar personality traits to Ben. He provided me with personal experience that reincarnation occurs; physical proof. Thanks to Rainbow, my barn cat teacher, reincarnation transformed from mere possibility to absolute truth. Any fear of death I may have had evaporated.

Rainbow stayed for eight years and then disappeared one day. I’d never had an animal leave like this. It was heart-wrenching not knowing what happened, but I clung to the hope that he might chose to return one day.

The spring after he disappeared, Ben/Rainbow popped into my mare, Squiggles’, newborn foal. I secretly hoped that this might be his plan. I knew him by the intense and instantaneous love I felt and asked what he wanted to be called. Instantly, I heard, “Randy.” Questioning him, I repeated, “Randy?” Very decisively he replied, “Its short for Randolph!” I smiled because our farm was on Randolph Road. He was three-and-a-half weeks late and taller than his older brother at birth. Any thoughts of selling this colt disappeared when I learned Ben/Rainbow was back.

Randy grew into a handsome horse who floated across the pasture with such an immense stride that it made you stop to watch. I couldn’t wait till he was old enough to train and dreamed of what he’d feel like; breathtakingly powerful. However during his yearling year, I noticed some occasional, worrisome steps when turning in his stall. I chalked it up to a fast-growing, large youngster. Sadly, it got worse as he aged.

We x-rayed him several times finding nothing to explain what we saw. We had another equine clinic with larger equipment radiograph his neck and the suspect areas of his hind legs; nothing. No matter what we tried nothing helped.

After moving, we tried one more clinic in Virginia that had digital xray equipment. The detailed, digital images showed arthritic changes in both stifle joints of his hind legs, but the vet felt Randy could repair them. In my heart I knew he wouldn’t, but I followed the vet’s advice of injecting both stifles and giving him time. I waited three months delaying the inevitable. Instead of getting better, Randy got worse.

Never having ridden him, I returned Randy to spirit crushed by having to say farewell too soon to my special three-year-old. I couldn’t comprehend why this happened, but thanks to my abilities accessing insights from the spiritual realms I eventually did. Randy’s sad story is detailed in my book, Letting Go.

After Randy left, I had no doubt he’d return again. My old Labs, Shadow and Licorice, were hanging on helping me through the worst of my “dark night of the soul.” I knew they’d be leaving fairly soon opening the doorway for two new souls to join me. I was positive one would be Ben/Rainbow/Randy.

The timing of events is a perfect example of the wonder of universal orchestration if we stay out of its way. A friend, who breeds and trains Labradors, contacted me about a breeding she was planning. She doesn’t breed often, so I was surprised by her email but felt it was a little early for me. Due to many circumstances, her bitch didn’t get pregnant. I just smiled.

She bred her again the following March, a month after Shadow had died. Given the deterioration in Licorice and my faith in universal timing, I was sure she was pregnant, which meant a litter in May if all went as expected. It did, and the pups arrived on Memorial Day making weaning the end of July.

Months earlier, I’d made plans with a close friend to fly down in July and drive back with me to NJ. I’d received information from the spiritual realms that Licorice would stay until after the pups came home. As much as I wanted that, my heart said no. Two days before my friend arrived, Licorice told me it was time to go Home.

Stopping on our way to NJ, I picked out my pups. When I looked into Hana’s eyes, I knew

who it was. Saba’s choice was determined by other’s picks ahead of me. I asked if I knew Saba. “You’ve been in many, many lifetimes together but not yet in this one.” I picked up my new teachers on my way back home. Even I was astonished by the timing of so many supposedly, unrelated events. Everything happens for a reason….