It was more in a spirit of desperation that I decided to contact an animal psychic after my friends’ terrier Lark disappeared. Lark vanished one evening from their house. She was chipped, and her collar had their number on it, but as the days went by no one called.
Lark’s photo was put on Facebook and on posters near her home. Had she been stolen, or hit by a car? We searched for her body but found nothing. Was she stuck down a rabbit hole? Five days after her disappearance, my friends went on a prearranged holiday and left me in charge of the mystery.
Becky mentioned birds of prey, and people living off the land. It seemed a litany of clichés
I put dog food outside Lark’s home. What if she returned and, like Peter Pan, couldn’t get in? A high-spirited, long-legged Parson Jack Russell, Lark reminded me of my own dog Perry, who’d lived till he was 17.
What other options were left? Another friend knew a woman, Becky, who said she could tune in to a missing dog’s mind, so I recklessly paid for three sessions. This isn’t such an unusual thing to do. Every year several thousands of Brits consult dog psychics – in search of missing pets or simply to find out what they think. Javier Milei, the right-wing libertarian and frontrunner to be Argentina’s next president, claims that his deceased mastiff Conan gives him political advice.
Becky certainly gave me practical advice. She told me that the owners’ photo of Lark wasn’t attractive enough and that I had to make new posters. She told me to add the word REWARD, and circulate them further afield. I added my own mobile number. A helpful neighbour insisted on a poster at the garage on our dangerous main road and said that he’d seen two teenage Traveller boys in our village who had threatened to steal dogs.
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