Moon Blindness in Horses

Three years ago, my horse Shiloh had his left eye removed due to moon blindness, or equine recurrent uveitis (ERU).  Behind the Bit has posted an excellent article on ERU, so I won’t go into the health or physical issues, but I’ll talk about it from an animal communicator’s point of view.

From my point of view as a communicator, it was a pain!  I don’t mean that I was picking up Shiloh’s pain either.  I was unable to talk with Shiloh because of the fears and dread I was feeling. I isolated myself from experiencing the fear by living in my head, thinking of everything I needed to prepare for the surgery, details that needed to be taken care of, telling people about it, etc.  I couldn’t face my real, deepest fear: what happens if something goes wrong during the surgery?

I asked Nicole Roberts, Shiloh’s communicator, to talk with him and see what he needed before the surgery.  Both Shiloh’s regular vet and the surgeon told me the surgery was the hardest on the person, even more so than on the horse.  According to Shiloh, that was absolutely true.

During our conversation, Shiloh said he was not worried about the surgical procedure.  He requested I have professional photos taken of him before the surgery and he also asked if I would be able to bring my sleeping bag to the hospital and spend the night with him in his stall.  He didn’t want me to worry.

Shiloh arrived at the hospital the evening before the surgery with enough grain, hay and treats for an entire herd of horses.  He immediately checked out his stall, and then settled down to munch some hay.  Once I saw he was settled in, I left.  I had to leave, the stress was too much for me.

I was a nervous wreck the day of the surgery – in fact, I cancelled teaching and paced around the house, too nervous to leave the house ‘just in case’ I got a dreaded phone call saying things had not gone well.  I wasn’t even in any condition to trust that a call would come through on my cell phone!

I did get a phone call – everything went very well; Shiloh was in recovery and I could come see him anytime I wanted.  I couldn’t go see him – the pressure was too much for me.  I tried connecting with him intuitively and couldn’t even do that; consequently, I felt guilty because I couldn’t connect with the guy.

When I went to pick him up, Shiloh was a trooper.  He walked out and loaded up like he had surgery every day.  During his short stay in the hospital, he had managed to con the staff into giving him all of his treats, and he had a new  girlfriend in the mare across the aisle from him.

I got him back to the farm and into his stall, where he settled in very easily and nicely, complete with his bandaged face.  I couldn’t stay, I couldn’t breathe, the strain of seeing my beloved horse with his head bandaged was too much for me.  I went home and drank some wine.

So, I’ll bet you’re asking yourself, “What the heck does Shiloh’s story have to do with animal communication?”

Here’s the moral of the story: As animal communicators we must take care of ourselves first and foremost before we can help others.  It’s like in the airplane, when you’re told to put your oxygen mask on first.  It is my job to be as clear a vessel as possible when I’m receiving information from the animals.  When I’m emotionally upset, attached to the outcome, or unbalanced in any way, chances are extremely good the information will be corrupted with my issues.  When that happens, I am of no help to anyone, including myself.

Also, sometimes our own beloved animal companions can be the most difficult to communicate with.  The reason is that we are emotionally bonded with them, and therefore attached to the outcome of the conversation.

If you find yourself in a position where you are unable to connect intuitively with your animal companion, be kind to yourself.  Give yourself the time and space to take care of yourself and try again later.  If you are still unable to connect and you feel it is important to do so at that time, consult with a professional animal communicator.  Remember, you don’t have to go through this by yourself.

Harmony,

Janet Roper

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