Barbie Perkins-Cooper, Author

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  • Sears — Customer Services for Appliance Repairs — NEEDS MAJOR IMPROVEMENT!


    Last week, I fought with my Kenmore front load washing machine for much too long. I kept getting an “OE” error. I followed the instructions to the letter, cleaning the dust and lint from the areas suggested; nevertheless, each time I tried to use the machine it refused to drain or spin. My husband, a computer engineer, checked the unit too — several times! Reluctantly, I phoned the toll-free number to request repair service.

    When I finally got a person on the phone, he apologized and performed what he needed to do to book a date for my dilemma. I confess, I was expecting to hear that a service person could be out soon. What I got was a shock to me! My history with Sears hasn’t been a good one, starting with their lack of professionalism and delivery etiquette when I purchased my Samsung French door refrigerator from Sears. Silly me, I thought Sears would adhere to the customer service they practiced many years ago, when my parents and grandparents only purchased items from Sears. Yes, like all things in life, Sears has changed — not necessarily for the better! Those who follow my blog probably remember the issues I had with the delivery of my refrigerator. It got so bad that the customer service rep that resolved the problems stated he would send me a $100 gift card for my grievance with them. Funny, that gift card never arrived!

    Back to the phone conversation I had to schedule my washing machine repair. After holding on the phone for a bit, the customer service rep returned, telling me that ‘the first available date for someone to come to my home to check the washer would be Wednesday, January 23, 2013’ — exactly eight days away!

    I gasped. “Eight days?” You mean to tell me I must wait eight days to get someone here to check and drain the washing machine? Eight days to have soaking, sopping laundry on my floor since it cannot spin the water out or drain? Eight days? Totally unacceptable!”

    Without a doubt, my Julia Sugarbaker style was kicking in!

    “Excuse me,” I said. “Do you not understand my situation? I have water on my laundry room floor from clothing I had to personally ring out with my hands, just to get it ready to throw into the dryer. Eight days is not acceptable. Something must be done!”

    “Sorry, but we have no appointments in your area until eight days from now.”

    Furious, I asked for a supervisor. No surprise there — no one was available.

    “Then you must have additional phone numbers I can call.”

    He shared two phone numbers. To say the least, Sears and I were not seeing eye-to-eye and I was ready to have my way with them — most diplomatically, Julia Sugarbaker style! When will Sears learn? You do not mess with a Steel Magnolia and when we, the customers purchase items, we are always encouraged to purchase additional warranties. For what — I ask you? For the customer to be inconvenienced until a ‘technician is in my area?’

    The next morning, I had two cups of coffee, ready and able to share my thoughts with Sears. No doubt, I was not hanging up until someone assisted me with a suitable appointment — not eight days away!

    The first phone call begins:

    “Hello, Sears. Yes, this is Barbie Perkins-Cooper. I have purchased many appliances through Sears, with exception of my stove. Yesterday my front loading washer refused to drain and spin so I requested service. I was told that the “earliest available appointment in my area would be on January 23 — eight days from now.” This is totally unacceptable and I need someone to reschedule for today, or at the latest tomorrow.”

    I was put on hold — then the phone disconnected!

    This scenario continued for four phone calls — each time I got a new person and had to play my speech over and over again. Each time, I was disconnected and no one had the courage or customer service skills to return the phone call. There was no acceptable excuse there because each rep had my phone number!

    The fifth time I phoned, my nerves were really frazzled. “Yes, hello, Sears. I hope your day is going well because this is the fifth time I’ve phoned to reschedule an appointment to repair my washer, and EACH TIME I’ve been placed on hold then disconnected. Please do not suggest that you need to place me on hold. If I have to phone again – I will probably seek additional means to resolve this issue. Sears, do I make myself clear?

    The customer service rep apologized for my lack of service and said she would see how she could please me today. I laughed.

    “Please me? Let’s just resolve the issues. I need my washer serviced and I will not accept that it will be eight days before a service technician can get to me. I was told that “there was no appointment in my area now. Again, I say, this is totally unacceptable!”

    The conversation continued, but this time the customer service rep was a bit more understanding.

    “I do need to place you on hold to see what I can do.”

    “Oh please! I’ll just be disconnected again — for the fifth time!”

    Reluctantly, I held — the phone clicked — disconnected for the fifth time.”

    Now, I was really — do I say it — no, I think I’ll still be diplomatic, only this time if I have to go to the highest Sears tower, I will get my Way!!!

    I redialed the phone number. My phone clicked with call waiting. I answered. The customer service rep was calling me — the first one to have such customer service skills.

    Immediately she apologized, then she said she had found ‘a technician in my area and he could be at my home today!’

    Imagine that! Sears was mistaken when they said there was ‘no appointment in my area until eight days from now.’ Were they lying to me? I think so! Rule number one of customer service skills — never lie to or deceive a customer! It’s a pity that Sears does not practice what they preach, nor do they provide the warranty customer service they always push on the customer — of course, for an additional fee!

    I thanked “Aver, the customer service rep,” and I waited for the technician to arrive. Within fifteen minutes, Greg, a Sears Blue Service Crew Technician arrived. He examined my washer, discovering that the pump was clogged with sand. He cleaned it, drained the water and was on his way to the next customer in less than one hour.

    Imagine that! I cannot help being curious to customers who do accept Sears customer service, along with ‘scheduled appointments in the area.’ Perhaps the customer service reps are programmed to schedule with inconvenience in mind. Perhaps they do not anticipate someone refusing to accept these comments and schedules. Perhaps Sears does not remember that Southern belles still exist, and I am not one. Southern belles might accept whatever Sears expresses. Steel magnolias — and I am most definitely described as a Steel Magnolia, do not accept this type of behavior. We sit back, think and reevaluate, while knowing that this type of customer service is not acceptable — and then — we get even, refusing to be pushed aside. We, the Steel Magnolias of the Twenty-First Century, do all that we can to get our way — not because we want to be selfish or demanding — we want to be treated like we are preferred customers. We are accustomed to being treated with respect, because we deserve it and demand it. The Julia Sugarbaker Steel Magnolia knows how to be diplomatic, charming, and ever so ever determined to get what we deserve. As for Sears, we deserve preferred customer service where we are treated with respect. While it took a bit of persuasion with Sears, I did achieve my goals, never doubting that something couldn’t be done. The excuse/fabrication/lie of “There is no appointment in your area until…”
    was truly something I was not promised when I made my purchases. Just what would happen to the customer who has a refrigerator that is not working. Would they actually be told that it would take ‘eight days’ to get it repaired?

    Sears — you really need to improve your customer service.

    Later that afternoon, while washing laundry, I got an e-mail from Sears. A survey! Oh, let’s just say, Julia Sugarbaker truly kicked in. My motto is, if you do not want my opinion — do not ask! Let’s just say, the survey I completed — on a scale of 1 – 10, with 10 being the worst — Sears flunked — BIG TIME!

    “Hello, Sears, yes…this is Barbie Perkins-Cooper reporting about your service…You failed!”

    Regarding the technician — Greg — he was fabulous! He is a Sears Blue Service Crew Technician. The back of his card reads:

    “Tell us how the crew did:

    1. Did we treat your home with care? YES

    2. Did we treat you as a valued customer? YES

    3. Did we explain the cost and repair? There was no cost — I still have a paid warranty, but he did explain the repair.

    4. Did we look and act professional? YES

    5. Die we offer other products/services?  I IMAGINE HE WAS FOREWARNED ABOUT THE CUSTOMER — AND HER TENACITY!

    6. Did we provide service you’d recommend?” NO. ABSOLUTELY NOT UNTIL JULIA SUGARBAKER SPOKE.

    On the phone, I shared that I would never buy another product from Sears. It isn’t worth the hassle!

    I have no faith in Sears anymore, especially after they promised to ‘send me a $100 gift card for the inconvenience of getting my refrigerator delivered” — I think it was two or three years ago. Perhaps that gift card was sent via pony express since Sears customer service refuses to move into the Twenty-first Century!

     

  • My Apologies For the New Year and Beyond!


    To those who read my blog on a regular basis, I would like to apologize for being a bit slack during November and December. My goal is to post on a regular basis, especially about subjects that get under my skin, or subjects I find newsworthy.

    Since late October, I have been ill and that is why I haven’t been writing on a regular basis. If you are my readers, I do hope you will choose to return when I post on a regular basis.

    To date, I’m hesitant to say I am getting well. It seems that every time I said that during the three months mentioned, I would only get worse again. I was diagnosed with ‘possible walking pneumonia – perhaps,’ only to get worse after taking the Z-pack. Returning to another doctor, I was diagnosed with ‘extreme congestion –deep in the bronchial tubes.’ According to this doctor I did not have pneumonia — yet! Thank goodness this doctor had the intelligence to request a chest x-ray. After another expensive batch of prescribed medications, I do appear to be improving; nevertheless, I am extremely weak. Walking around downtown Charleston today has left me completely exhausted and normally I can walk without exhaustion.

    So, my faithful readers, I do hope you will continue visiting my blog and as soon as I am able to work with a bit of strength again, I will keep you supplied with newsworthy topics, issues that ‘get under my skin’ and other details, from a writer’s perspective. Meanwhile, I wish you a wonderful, healthy and prosperous New Year, 2013. It is unfortunate that my year has started with such illness. For now, I am moving forward in hopes all in Charleston, SC will stop getting so ill with viruses, the flu and other germs that I certainly do not wish to breathe or catch. I’ve had enough illness to last a while. Let us all toast the new year with health and positive thoughts!

  • Through the Eyes of Love


    To those who read my blog on a regular basis, you will know what an advocate I am for animals, especially Schnauzers. This week has taught me how blessed I am to have such kind and loving animals. My oldest mini-Schnauzer is not a rescue. We adopted him from friends who had a pregnant schnauzer ready to give birth. On the day they were born, we visited to select  our baby. As I touched each of the precious three that were available, one in particular responded with a sweet moan when I touched his ears. The family had named him Piglet since he was the biggest of the babies. Six weeks later, we brought Sir Shakespeare Hemingway home. Like most schnauzers, he is protective of me, territorial and nourishing of his mommy. This week has proven that! As you know, I’ve been sick off and on since October. Getting weaker this week, I went back to a new medical care facility — NASON MEDICAL CARE. I highly recommend them! Two days ago, Shakespeare had enough of gating in the kitchen area. When I told him to go in the gate, he refused and darted towards my bedroom. There, he stayed. Refusing to move. He wanted to care for his Mommy! He remained by my side all day, until my husband came home. He simply refused to leave me alone. Licking my hands (something he rarely does) he looked into my eyes, as if to say, “Mommy, I’ll take care of you”, then he raised his body toward me to hug. Tightly, his little paws went around my neck, hugging me for a long time while looking in my eyes. We were communicating. I could feel the power of his love and his fear that something was really wrong with his mommy.  Every day since, he hasn’t left my side. Always there while I am coughing a dreadful cough that appears to come from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. A cough that feels like I am fighting desperately to grasp just one more breath of life. When I struggle weakly to walk into the kitchen for water and coffee, Shakespeare is beside me. He waits and watches for me. He doesn’t ask for a treat. The look in his eyes is a serious look — ‘Mommy are you Ok? What can I do to help you get well?’

    All of this unconditional love from a dog some would say. Well, if you’ve never experienced it, you haven’t a clue what you are missing. Animals have a way of communicating with those who love them and are connected to them. While writing this, Shakespeare is resting by my feet. When I cough, he lifts his head to look at me. When I pat him on the head, he lays his head down, understanding that for now, I am OK. Such unconditional love is so strong. I am so blessed to have such a kind, loving mini-Schnauzer that wants to share his life with me.

    This week as I battled for strength, I have learned it is OK to allow my husband to care for me. This illness has gone on for much too long. As a hard-headed, opinionated woman it is difficult to ask my husband for help, especially when he offers it. Something he doesn’t normally do; nevertheless, I have learned that I cannot always be the tower of strength looking over my loved ones. Sometimes I need to allow others to care for me, regardless. This lingering illness actually scared me as I continued to flop my body onto the bed, weak, afraid and sometimes alone since my husband was working. I’ve never been in this position before — where I was too weak to cook a meal, too weak to sort and wash laundry and too weak to vacuum the house. In all reality, I was almost to the point of too weak to breath. Yes, this week I learned, from the powerful caring eyes of a canine, that others really care about me, and it is ok to reach out to accept their love. Lessons learned, through the eyes of love — my precious Sir Shakespeare Hemingway and the generosity of a husband who is not exactly domesticated, but loving me enough to learn. Happy 2013!

  • Belated Merry Christmas to All


    Good morning, World. Today is December 26, 2012 — the day after Christmas. Belated Merry Christmas to all. Another day for many to shop – to get the great after Christmas bargains. Ho Hum. I will not be a participant this year.  I’m still too sick, too weak to fight the crowds. For the holidays of 2012, I have been ill. Everything has been a fog to me. The beautiful Christmas trees. The Christmas lights. Christmas caroling. Christmas parties…Christmas mass…a complete fog.

    I became ill in early October with bronchial asthma. Knowing how to care for myself, I rested, used my nebulizer and inhaler. I have asthma and I know what is required to get well, so I didn’t go to the doctor. I rested. Slept — once until 2:40pm. Totally out of character for me! Getting well a few days before Thanksgiving, I cooked a Thanksgiving feast for two. After Thanksgiving I realized I was still ill, but better.

    On December 13, I awoke coughing again. Oh goodness…am I still sick? I asked myself. The night before was a fun night of dancing, singing and having lots of fun at Karaoke at the Elks Lodge. Barbie is back, I said. I’m finally well!

    Surprise! Thursday morning is my weigh-in day at Weight Watchers. After washing my face, I turned my lighted makeup mirror on. Oh Gosh. What is wrong with my left eye? I stared into the mirror, got a fresh tissue, dabbing it gently on my left eye. It was bloody red, appearing to have blood gushing out of it. I was horrified. I looked like an alien! I can’t go to Weight Watchers like this. I have to go to the eye doctor! I checked the tissue. It was dry. No blood, nevertheless; my eye was BLOODY!

    I looked for my opthamologist phone number in my new Iphone5. It wasn’t there. I struggled to think of the doctor’s name, but I was a true blonde this time. What to do? I decided to drive myself to the office as an emergency. If I needed to stay all day so they could work me in, I would. I packed a few magazines and the Post and Courier in my hand bag, and off I went to the eye doctor. I was mortified! No eye makeup on and here I was driving myself to the doctor. I imagined I would run into everyone I know — without makeup!

    By now, I had a bit of pressure in my right eye. I could see well, so I didn’t think there was any damage. Less than an hour later, the doctor checked my eye. The left eye had suffered a subconjunctival hemorrhage from coughing. He confirmed I had no eye damage, but would look this way for a matter of weeks. Great. The holidays are upon me and I look dreadful. Can I wear eye makeup? My doctor laughed. Yes, I could. There was no damage to my eye…It just looked — interesting! Little did I know how sick I was becoming. By Sunday, my chest burned and there appeared to be a bear inside my chest. Growling. Wanting to come out, only I was too weak to let it out. My eye was still red. I could be in a horror movie now, not needing makeup at all!

    For those of you who read my blog regularly, I thank you and I apologize for not writing lately. I have been much too sick, and so has my computer. One morning I attempted to use the computer. Everything wasn’t working. Trying to get on the Internet gave me a code of  ‘this page doesn’t exist,’ or something similar. Remember, I am sick and when I am sick, my brain becomes pickled! I realized, not only was I sick with this dreadful virus, but my computer had a virus too! At least my computer and I are closely bonded…maybe a little too closely bonded!

    Monday morning, I phoned my allergy specialist. The earliest I could get an appointment was Tuesday afternoon. Lots of sickness in Mt. Pleasant. I was only one of them. Arriving late at the doctor’s office, I apologized, telling them I could not remember where they were located and went to the wrong office. Gosh, how I hate when I’m sick. I am a total air head, unable to comprehend anything.

    I remained at the doctor’s office for over two hours. Constantly they tested, treated and diagnosed me. No flu. No fever. No pneumonia. Walking pneumonia — perhaps!

    Now, my readers will understand why I’ve been so quiet. Too sick to write. Almost too sick to lift my head off the pillow. Changing the bed linens left me gasping for breath. Christmas Day I received a blessed gift from God — I awoke feeling better. I could go to my friend’s home for dinner. I was finally stepping onto the road to recovery.

    This morning I am feeling better — bit by bit. This Christmas holiday season I wasn’t able to shop at all. Each time I thought I might be able to shop, something came up – a surprising assignment with New York Daily News, another assignment for my magazine editor, and of course, all of the illness I battled. So, Phil and I have quietly appreciated that we have each other. Shopping for gifts simply wasn’t an issue for this year. I was much too sick. After all, it is the little things we should appreciate every year at the holidays. For example – good health. Spending time with family and friends. Being nice to one another. Playing it forward with kindness. Instead of being in a rush, especially in traffic, why not allow that insensitive driver who is striving to cut you off to get into the lane ahead of you? Open the door to a stranger. Say hello to someone with a smile. Be nice. Christmas is the time of year to appreciate those who are in our lives, and those who come into our lives. Every one has a reason and a season. The little things. This year I’ve certainly learned to appreciate those precious words and to appreciate “Merry Christmas.”

    Perhaps God wanted me to get sick to realize I must slow down a bit and appreciate those I love. Belated Merry Christmas, Everyone. Let us all give thanks for our life, our family, good health and God bless us — EVERYONE! Happy New Year 2013.

  • The Day Cletus Came Home


    by

    Barbie Perkins-Cooper

    Copyright [c] 2012 Barbie Perkins-Cooper, All Rights Reserved

    Thursday, November 8, 2012 was a bitter day, with an early and cold winter’s chill for the fall in Charleston, South Carolina. The morning sunshine could not warm the grounds of the coastal area where Cletus was lost. He sniffed the coldness under his belly. Shivering, he was so tired, weak and getting thinner every day.

    How long has it been since he ran away? Although he struggled to remember, his brain was tired from so many nights of little sleep. He dug deeper under the house. He heard the noise of a motor. Someone’s coming. I need to hide. She might see me again and this time, she might catch me.

    With his docked tail tucked between his legs, he rushed away. The dark-skinned lady with white hair knew where he hid at night. She tried without luck to catch him but he always managed to move quicker than her crumpled body would permit. Cletus knew how to outsmart people. Yes, they were taller than he was. Bigger, and people had long arms that stretched out with fingers that felt more like shovels than something warm to touch him. His sandy blonde and cream-colored fur usually kept him warm, but this morning it was cold in Mt. Pleasant.

    Cletus looked back as he moved. Why can’t I run like I did when I ran away? Why is every step feeling like I will fall down and never get up?

    Cletus crept down under the bushes. She could not see him here. “Here little puppy. Come here to me. I got some food for you. You look so skinny. I just want to feed you little puppy.” The lady walked with a cane, dragging it behind her as she shook the food bowl. For three early mornings Cletus ate the food, warm with runny looking yellow grains of corn, oats, bread and other ingredients. Cletus didn’t care what it was. He ate every bite, wanting more.

    Cletus  heard the softness of her voice before. Yes, it was a nicer tone than before…in the puppy mill. When Cletus lived there all he ever heard was a harsh shouting of Move…get on over there…go do your work boy…now get! Cletus knew what to do and he rushed away before the bald-headed man with a belly that jiggled every time he moved, turned the water hose on again. He didn’t want to get wet again. The waters stung him every time they hit his tiny body. The waters made him feel like he was drowning. He didn’t want to drown. He wanted to hear the soft voice again…the gentle voice and the sweet words, “Cleet…Cleet…Come on Boy. It’s OK. No one will hurt you here.”

    Cleetus curled into a ball to get warm. His tired eyes closed. Cleet. Cleet. He dreamed.

  • What Is An Animal Communicator


    Six weeks ago a new foster baby was brought into our home…a frightened, sandy blonde and cream-colored mini-Schnauzer, Maltese mix named Cletus. Riding home in the car with my friend, Lyn, another foster parent, I held little Cleet…Cleet in my lap. Each time I touched him, he cringed. He would not look at me. His eyes shared such a dreadful fear that I wanted to hold him closer, and when I tried, his horrified little body trembled. It was easy to see, Little Cleet…Cleet had been mistreated, abused and never cared for like animals deserve.

    Arriving home that Saturday afternoon, he sniffed at our animals, Shakespeare, Sandy Bear, Shadow and Shasta. He rushed outside, watching us to see if we were coming after him. When I moved my arms out to pick him so he could come inside, he darted away. My husband watched him. “This little guy has been beaten,” he said. Cletus had such sadness in his eyes. Looking at him I wanted to scream at the person who had been so abusive to him, but I could not. Cletus had been removed from a puppy mill, emaciated, sick, covered with fleas and an eye infection. The infection was so bad the veterinarian caring for him was afraid he would lose his sight. Thanks to the loving care of the veterinarian’s office his eye sight was saved, but nothing could treat or remove the sadness those beautiful brown eyes expressed. Every day was a challenge with Cletus. I was told by the vets office that he might not eat around people, but in the dark of night, he would eat every bite, wanting more.

    Week one of caring for Cletus was a challenge. That Saturday morning, I let the dogs outside early knowing my husband and I were scheduled to pick up another foster that afternoon. I poured a cup of coffee and went outside to get the dogs. All of our family of schnauzers and a Maltese rushed inside. I looked for Cletus. He was nowhere to be found. It was 7:30 in the morning. I had to get dressed and leave to drive to Charlotte. My heart ached for Cletus. I looked in every corner of the back yard. The shed door was open, so I rushed inside. No sign of him. I noticed a hole, freshly dug. My heart stopped. Cletus had escaped. I rushed outside, “Here Cletus…come here baby…” but I knew he would not respond. Cletus had made the decision to make his own life, away from humans. After all, in his little world, humans were mean…abusive, and they hurt him. He was taking a stand to his independence. He wanted freedom!

    That afternoon we had another foster to add to our little family. We had fostered him before, so when he walked inside the house, he rushed to the water bowl and the toy box. Noting how familiar he was with us, I phoned Schnauzer Rescue of the Carolinas, to report that our new foster, Hank, was home…and I had some bad news to report. Tears filled my eyes as I told the director that little Cletus ran away. We called Mt. Pleasant Animal Control, but they were closed. A report was filed, but nothing could be done until Monday. 24 Pet Watch was called since Cletus was micro-chipped. The animal shelter was called. I made flyers, posting them within a five-mile radius of Mt. Pleasant. I felt so guilty. I have never lost an animal before.  The independence of Cletus was teaching me a lot about what to do when an animal is lost.

    For years, I have been an advocate for animals, especially abused, neglected, mistreated animals. In 2001, I was introduced to a giant schnauzer at a rescue center. He was scheduled to be euthanized because every time someone was interested in adopting him, they stopped the process because he growled. Meeting this giant beauty in June 2001, I moved closer to him. He growled at me. I moved closer, huddling on the floor to get to his level. Surprisingly, he moved closer and stuck out his paw, as if to say “Pet me.” My heart melted. Thus began my interest in rescuing schnauzers.

    For 11 years, Prince Marmaduke Shamus touched my life. The day I adopted him I took off his leash in the foyer. Although he was not familiar with the surroundings of his new home, he marched into the hall, rushed towards the master bedroom, plopping his body down in the shower stall. When I found him, he wagged his tail, as if he was saying, “I’m home. This is my new bedroom.” We lost Shamey-Pooh on May 2, 2012, after a terminal diagnosis and illness. Words cannot express how empty I have felt since his passing.

    My giant Shamey-Pooh taught me so much about rescuing animals and how to treat them. Now I am a volunteer foster for Schnauzer Rescue of the Carolinas. My life is blessed with richness when I see these scared little animals grow with love and trust with us. When they leave, I share a tear, knowing we have done our job well and a new home will be blessed with their new baby.

    On Sunday, I received phone calls from neighbors saying they saw the little lost dog. He was on King Street. Next report was McCants Drive by Mt. Pleasant First Baptist Church. I searched. I walked. Deciding it might be easier to find him if I walked with my dogs while searching, I added Shadow and Shakespeare to the search, finding nothing. At night, I placed food and water on the front porch, hoping Cletus would find the scent of food and Shakespeare and Shadow and come back.

    A few days later, Schnauzer Rescue suggested an animal communicator. I was totally unfamiliar with an animal communicator, but I wanted to find Cletus.  An animal communicator was located and would assist SRC pro bono. Phoning Karen, the animal communicator, she spoke with kindness and compassion, telling me not to blame myself. Funny, she was picking up on my vibes, just speaking with me. She encouraged me to send a bit of history about Cletus in an e-mail. She would review it and phone me at 5pm today.  I shared the history and photograph: Cletus is  14 lbs, a Schnauzer/Maltese Mix, and is missing. He is VERY timid, has been abused, and will run if frightened. He has never bitten but will growl if frightened. Speaking to him in a comforting voice and approaching from his level is the best approach with him.

    I did a bit of research. According to the website, http://rainhummingbird.com/blog/animal-medicine-part-4-how-you-can-communicate-with-animals/

    1. “Be Present, Calm and Emotionally Peaceful

    The first step to communicating with any animal is to quiet your mind, relax and be fully present in the moment. Many people find it helpful to get themselves grounded by closing their eyes and gently focusing on their breath. Take a few deep breaths, relax, breathe normally and when you feel calm and present, begin.

    2. Be Open and Receptive

    Having an open heart and mind, free of judgments or attachments, is essential to receiving messages clearly and accurately from animals. It is important to recognize that all animals are sentient beings with intelligence, emotions and awareness, and when we are open to receiving their wisdom, there is much we can learn from them. Animal communication is not something to ‘try’ to do. It is something we allow to happen. Being open and receptive to whatever comes, in whatever way the information comes to you, will foster greater opening of your intuitive abilities and your ability to receive and transmit messages will expand and grow with practice.”

    On the phone Karen shared how animal communicators use universal language, sometimes clairvoyant. The information comes in the form of pictures, stories, feelings, emotions, information. The communicator may get quiet for a few minutes to get the information soul to soul, an element of translation, If something is confusing or untrue, give her feedback. When quiet, be patient.

    For hours I anticipated the phone call. Is Cletus still alive? What if this doesn’t work…what if he refuses to communicate with her?

    The phone rang at exactly 5pm. She explained in detail what she would do. Then, she became quiet. I listened.

    “Cletus took a talkative route from the front yard, took a turn to the right, walking along sidewalks. He said he was a bit curious; wanting to know what was out there. Cletus stated he isn’t doing so good. He’s confused. Lost. Curious as to what was out there, he walked on sidewalks. After two blocks, he ran from a boy. (I believe this was the boy who phoned me on Sunday at 4pm, telling me he saw Cletus at 3pm.) Now, Cletus says he is so lost. He is sleeping and hiding in shrubs, against a building.

    Cletus showed her a big yard, or maybe a park with a bunch of grass. There are lots of trees, grass, kids. He hears machinery, maybe a lawnmower around. Maybe a groundskeeper doing yard work.” This could be Mt. Pleasant First Baptist Church!

    Karen continued: “He hears voices. He says he’d like to go back. He said his curious nose got him in trouble because he smelled things and was so curious and ran away. He was a bit surprised that people are looking for him.” I encouraged her to share with him that we’ve posted flyers with his picture all over the area. He said he will look for them and he appeared a bit surprised/touched that we are looking for him. He liked the house, the people, and the other dogs, but he was so afraid. He said, “the people cared about me. The other dogs were teaching me, and I was watching all their actions.” He also said he really liked Sandy Bear.

    Karen became quiet again. A few moments later, she said: “The big yard is mowed and immaculate. Kids were around earlier but they aren’t now. There is a little building around and a stream or a creek. He hears noises. Kids laughing, but he’s hiding in the bushes. He stated he has eaten. He found a sack with food in it. He ate a little. He found water from something dripping.” I asked her to tell him his foster mom is placing food out by the front porch of the house and other places so if he is hungry, come back.

    We were encouraged to be flexible, when looking for him. If he runs, we might consider using a trap. The problem is I don’t know where to place the trap. I’ve placed a bag of food in the shrubs by the church. This morning, I did not see Cletus and no one I approached has seen him.

    Karen stated that animals are visual. They see things as a movie camera in their heads. She encouraged me to get a leash (I have one in my bag when walking, searching for him). Let the dogs take me by leading the way. Each time I walk I use the command, “Let’s go find Cletus.” This morning, my dogs were searching in the shrubs with me. Obviously, my dogs understand what I expressed. Karen encouraged me to be open with my dreams. I mentioned that I have visions and fully believe in what she does. It was an amazing experience speaking with an animal communicator. If you lose an animal you might consider contacting one.

    A week passed. Something was eating the food at night-time. Perhaps Cletus was coming back, just to eat.  Another week passed. I stopped receiving phone calls from neighbors, although they were still looking. One neighbor asked for some of my flyers. She delivered them to grocery stores, hardware stores and community bulletin boards.

    Every morning the food bowl was empty, but no sight of Cletus. I was losing faith. During this time I was sick with bronchial asthma. I was so weak, I could not walk the dogs or search in the community. Much to my surprise, we received a phone message while away. I didn’t have my cell phone with me, so I didn’t get the message on my phone until returning home. Phil’s cell rang, Mt. Pleasant Animal Control had found Cletus — three blocks away from our home. He found shelter in a woman’s yard. She left the gate open and Cletus rushed into the back yard. For three days he refused to leave her yard. She fed him and called Mt. Pleasant Animal Control. When animal control came to the house, we weren’t home, but our neighbor saw them, rushing outside. Cletus was inside a trap, emaciated and hungry. She agreed to keep him until we got home.

    The joy and relief I discovered when we got home was priceless. Cletus looked up at us, allowing us to pick him up. Cletus was home. Emaciated, dirty, but home! All to the credit of an animal communicator named Karen, Mt. Pleasant Animal Control, my wonderful neighbor, and the precious little lady who allowed him to stay for three days in her back yard.

    With each day, we see a bit of improvement with Cletus. He doesn’t come to us willingly — yet, but we are hopeful that with our love and kindness, Cletus will grow into a trusting little guy deserving of love from humans, not abuse. He doesn’t want to go outside now, in the dark of night. Perhaps he is discovering that home is a special place, filled with love and kindness. Welcome home, little Cleet…Cleet!

  • Happy Thanksgiving to the United States of America, 2012


    Gobble. Gobble. We awoke to a beautiful morning. Warming the oven, we pop the turkey in, ready and excited to make our delicious Thanksgiving meal. Thanksgiving has been a tradition in America since the pilgrims. Just imagine cooking that delicious meal the way the pilgrims cooked. No microwave. No conventional ovens. No electric ovens. Everything was cooked using all that they had to use back in those days. The days before electricity. The days without convenience, or technology. Just imagine, not being able to communicate with precious long distance loved ones far away. No e-mail. No texting. No Facebook.

    I, for one, am happy I didn’t live back in those days. The days before women had rights. Nonetheless, today is a Thanksgiving Day that is always precious to me and my family. On this date many years ago, my husband shipped out from Ft. Dix to Vietnam. Seems the military could care less about holidays!  Phil and I were newlyweds at that time and I was staying with his family while he was away. At least that is what he wanted me to do, but when his father (and I use the term loosely) chose to stay drunk 24 hours a day, telling me that ‘I had only married my husband because I wanted his money.’ I was only 18-years-old at the time. He was a PFC in the Army. His family lived in a trailer. Enough Said! Let’s just say, our marriage started off without much planning. I didn’t meet his family UNTIL AFTER OUR MARRIAGE. How I was hoping and praying Phil would not behave like they did. After my father-in-law’s drunkenness continued, I chose to move back to my mother’s home. Not a good decision, but it was the only decision I had.

    OK, let’s flash forward to our Thanksgiving time together. For two years of our marriage, the Army kept us separate. So now, I do my best to make certain Thanksgiving is special. I use my best china, and I cook lots of food. We have enough leftovers to feed us for at least three days.

    Our dinner feast included:

    Roast turkey with homemade cornbread dressing with Italian sausage and giblets

    Macaroni and cheese

    Mashed potatoes

    Gravy

    Dessert – Cream cheese pound cake and cheesecake

    What was your Thanksgiving feast?

    This year I was sick for four weeks with bronchial asthma. So sick and weak I failed to invite anyone over for Thanksgiving.  Next year, I’m hopeful I will not get sick so I can work on that. I simply love cooking for others. The year 2012 has kept me busy so I haven’t exactly shared my cooking skills with others. Oh well. Tomorrow is another day!

    My wish for everyone on this Thanksgiving Day is to appreciate others. Take a moment to share your love with your friends, family and significant others while enjoying this special day of thanksgiving.

    I hope all of your holidays are filled with happiness. Remember to take time to say a prayer for our United States of America Armed Forces. Let us hope that all of them know how much we miss them and appreciate all that they are doing to keep America safe.

    May your holidays be wonderful, and please, remember to keep Christ in Christmas.

  • Mammogram 101


    I suppose this is an article for women only; after all, I don’t think men would appreciate the subject matter. Here goes. Have you ever had a mammogram?

    During the month of October, I scheduled my yearly mammogram. Since I do monthly breast exams, I wasn’t afraid. Nothing was different so I was confident that I would receive a letter telling me to return in a year. When the letter arrived, I was concerned. I needed an additional mammogram and/or ultrasound. I scheduled it immediately. Before the appointment, I got a call from the hospital informing me that I needed to bring $265.99 to pay for the additional test.

    “What…I have Blue Cross Blue Shield. They pay for my mammogram.” Surprise — only 80% this time!

    I almost cancelled the appointment. After contemplating the additional test, I phoned the Breast Cancer Center again, asking why I needed this appointment. “We can’t discuss that,” the voice on the other line said.

    I was furious.

    The more I thought of it, the more I realized I needed my Julia Sugarbaker diplomatic style to kick in. “Hello,” I said. “I have an appointment for an additional mammogram and was told no one could discuss it with me. Don’t I have the right to KNOW Why?”

    “Of Course, you do,” the kind voice responded.

    She transferred me to the radiology doctor where I discovered why. It seems that my yearly mammogram noticed a change…something in the glandular structure. I heard the word “asymmeticral,” or something similar.

    “Have you lost or gained weight in the past year?”

    “Yes…about 35 pounds. I’m doing Weight Watchers.”

    “That could be the reason. It’s nothing to get alarmed about.”

    Alarmed? Could we be talking a lump, or breast cancer?

    The appointment was scheduled for the next Monday. I had exactly seven days to stress, worry while my imagination went crazy with fear.

    I’ve always been told I have a nice chest.  For me, this compliment convinced me years ago that a woman’s chest is one of her most feminine assets. Perhaps some people can’t imagine stating that, but when it is one of the major compliments received, especially from my husband all types of fear entered my mind.

    My maternal grandmother developed breast cancer — back in the days when cobalt was the treatment used after a brutal surgery. I had to change her dressings for her when she came home. Her chest was brutalized — like a raw piece of red beef. I was a teenager at the time and I’ve never forgotten how dreadful my grandmother looked. Never did I squint or show her my fears while I cleansed and dressed her wounds. Never did I forget how she looked. My grandmother was a grand lady, an inspirational, loving role model for me, showing me what a lady should always be, how a lady should act and dress. She influenced my life significantly!

    What if that happened to me? How would my husband love me anymore IF I lost a breast?

    I suppose every breast cancer survivor has felt that fear. I’ve known many women who have battled and won, but I’ve never discussed their fears, or dressed their wounds. I have been told that the incision is much better now, and there is plastic surgery that can be completed.  Before I went for the additional mammogram I researched breast cancer, reconstructive surgery and on and on. I do not recommend others to research. You must ask breast cancer survivors — those who have endured breast cancer. As a writer, I have the tools nearby to find the research. Sometimes a little knowledge can make one frightened out of their minds. Still, I could not pick up the phone to ask a friend. So many women do not want to talk about the experience, and I can certainly understand.

    I told myself not to worry. Easier said than done, I assure you. Then, I took my maternal grandmother’s wise advice — I went to my window lifted my eyes up towards the Heavens and I prayed, having a lengthy talk with God. My grandmother’s advice of finding a special window to have God lift a burden has always worked for me. This time, I felt the burden lift. Thank you, Gramma!

    An additional mammogram. I’ve had several but I knew this one would be different. Just imagine a portion of your body placed into a paddle where the radiologist pushes, pulls, probes, squeezes, tightens….oops, not the right position so it is time to push, pull, probe, squeeze and tighten again — while attempting to get the muscles, tissues and dense breast materials to tighten, flatten — perhaps like a pancake.

    My breast could never become a pancake!

    If you are a man, just imagine a tender part of your body pulled into the paddle while having the radiologist tighten…and tighten…and tighten…until there is a pancake size and when the position is intact, she says, “Now don’t move.” Meanwhile your special area feels so tight, uncomfortable, and a bit painful while you attempt to escape into a part of your memory reserved for relaxation.

    What? You’ve never heard of a mammogram? A mammogram is an x-ray. Allow me to discuss it further:

    According to the American Cancer Society, “Getting a mammogram is one of the best things a woman can do to protect her health. This simple test can find breast cancers early, when they’re small and have not spread. This is when breast cancer is easier to treat and the chances of survival are higher. http://www.cancer.org/healthy/findcancerearly/cancerscreeningguidelines/american-cancer-society-guidelines-for-the-early-detection-of-cancer

    If you’re 40 or older, you should get a mammogram every year. Don’t wait. Call your doctor to schedule one today.”

    The American Cancer Society strongly recommends that women over 40 have a yearly mammogram. October is Breast Cancer Awareness month, so when you see women, and those who are close to women, wearing the pink ribbons, or pink clothing, remember to schedule your mammogram.

    Remember to do monthly self breast exams every month.  For  thoroughly detailed images of how to do a self breast exam, visit the website: http://women.webmd.com/healthtool-self-breast-exam

    Every women should have a yearly physical and have a breast examination by a doctor. While examining your breast, pay close attention to the nipples and if you see any changes, be sure to see your doctor.

    In the event you should see a change, a lump or swelling, irritation or dimpling, any pain at the nipple, redness, or a discharge, please see your doctor.

    After making the appointment, checking with BCBS, I approached my husband about my letter.  I’ve got to have an additional mammogram/ultrasound. It seems I have a glandular change in my left breast.

    He looked up from the computer. Wow! This time, I had his complete attention.

    What if…what if I have breast cancer and I lose my breast? I could not live like that.

    Phil rushed to hold me. Suddenly the weight of the world lifted as he held me. Those arms of strength and love have gotten me through some rough times in my life.

    “Did you speak with the doctor?”

    Yes. Let’s just say my Julia Sugarbaker kicked in.

    “You’ll be fine,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

    Easy for him to say. What if He was the one who would have a part of his anatomy placed into paddles that desire to flatten the tissues like they are pancakes.

    Finally the day arrived. I did my best not to worry; after all, I had a talk with God. I arrived early. The appointment was at 3:40pm. I didn’t leave until after 5pm. This time, the radiologist explained what she was doing. She even allowed me to look over my shoulder. Silly me. I was still attached to the paddle so when I turned to look to the right — well, let’s just say — it wasn’t comfortable!

    “When will I know the results?”

    “I’ll show these to the doctor before you leave. You might still need an ultrasound, but we’ll wait until the doctor says we do.”

    Thanks.

    Moments seemed like hours as I went back to the dressing room — dressed in a thin bed jacket style of fabric. I couldn’t get dressed until the radiologist said I could. So, the wait began. I know it was only a few minutes, but it seemed like hours. I kept glancing down at my manicured nails. I have a tendency to pull the nail polish off when I am so stressful. I played with my nails and waited. A knock was at the door. I opened it.

    The radiologist introduced me to the doctor. “We’ll see you in a year,” she said.

    I can go home? I don’t need the ultrasound?

    I sighed with delight. Such sweet words to hear.

    “It’s just a glandular change. Nothing to be alarmed about.”

    How I wanted to hug her but I knew if I lifted my arms, I would be exposed to the world. Instead, I shook her hand.

    “Happy Thanksgiving,” she said.

    Yes, it will be a great Happy Thanksgiving now.

    I suddenly felt guilty while driving home, thinking of the women who have experienced the same tests, only to hear the dreadful six-letter-word that starts with a C.

    Somehow. Someway. Someday. Cancer must find a cure. Just when — and at what cost will that day arrive? Every day I pray for a cure while remembering my precious grandmother. Her courage. Her strength. Her love for her granddaughters. How I miss her!

     

     

  • Cletus Is Home


    One week ago today, we were blessed with the exciting news that little Cletus “Little Cleet…Cleet” has been found!  With each day, we have watched him grow. His belly is not as emaciated as he was last week and he eats willingly, without hovering down from fear. On many occasions, I have seen his docked tail wagging with excitement. No, he doesn’t come to us yet. No, he doesn’t want to go outside in the night – in the dark. He prefers to stay inside. We are working to housebreak him. Today seems to be the best day with that. No early morning clean ups were required and he rushed outside with the other pups. He and Sandy Bear are close friends. I am hopeful Sandy Bear is teaching him, telling him that there are still good, caring people in the world of humans. People who will not mistreat a precious dog, but will love him. Yes, he still runs around in circles outside, but eventually (for me, after about 15 minutes — for my husband, less than 5 minutes) he will squat down and allow us to pick him up to bring him inside.

     

    His appetite is great. He will occasionally take a treat from our hands. In all honesty, he appears to respond more to my husband, Phil, than me. Phil reports that when he is outside and sees me in the windows, he follows where I am. If I move to the front window where the fence is located, he moves closer to the window. If I move away, he watches, as if he is looking for me! He is getting more comfortable with us with every day. This morning, when I moved closer to pick him up, he barked with a happy bark and charged towards me, as if to say he wanted to play! When I moved closer, his fear gave in and he moved away! He is still very afraid of humans, but I really believe he is getting to see there is a different, kinder world within our home.

     

    He doesn’t play with toys yet. He does like to have a fresh towel, with our scent, next to him at night night time. He doesn’t appear comfortable enough to rush to our bedroom to sleep with us, but he is enjoying sleeping on a pillow, with a towel and the breakfast room light on. Cletus doesn’t appear to like the dark of night, but when you consider he was lost for close to three weeks, I am certain the dark of night was probably a bit frightening.

     

    Today, it is raining within the suburbs of Mt. Pleasant, SC. Cletus is happy to be in a warm home. When we pick him up now, he doesn’t struggle to jump out of our arms. All in time, he will understand that there are human arms and hands that will not strike, kick or hurt him. As his foster mom, I look forward to the day that he comes to us willingly. My first challenge was to get him to go outside willingly. That has been achieved. Second challenge – to get him comfortable enough to eat his food. Achieved. Third challenge – to get Cletus to bark and wag his tail. He accomplished that this week!

     

    I am hopeful I will have more “Happy Tails” to report, via Cletus next week. He does appear to like hearing his name as “Little Cleet…Cleet…” One day, he is going to be a happy little boy. I look forward to seeing that day soon!

     

    For now, I am so thankful that Little Cleet Cleet will be home at Thanksgiving!

  • Veterans Day in America


    Today is Veterans Day. A day to give thanks to all who have served in the United States Armed Forces. A day for America to SALUTE our Veterans!

    As the proud wife of a Vietnam Veteran, I confess — veterans hold a most special place in my heart. While traveling to areas I write about, as I rush around the airports, when I see a soldier dressed in uniform, I always place my right hand over my chest, moving it quickly down — to give thanks to them. If time permits, I will approach the soldier and say, “Thank you!”

    When I flew to Hawaii in July, I sat behind two soldiers. I was proud to see that American Airlines permitted the soldiers to board ahead of everyone else, and they gave these soldiers ‘complimentary food and drink.’  How nice…after all, isn’t it about time?

    Still, I remember how our Vietnam Veterans were treated when they left for their tour of duty, and when they arrived home. It is unfortunate that my husband was one of the troops mistreated and spat on as he arrived touching the soils of America.

    Vietnam was a dreadful pain for America. Protests were held, people shouting to the veterans, calling them ‘baby killers,’ and such. Never will I forget those incidents. I cried when I saw this happen. It wasn’t the fault of our soldiers. It was a war…a war America learned a lot from, and fortunately, America changed a few things!

    Now, troops ship out in platoons…not alone…on a plane. When my husband arrived home, he phoned me from Texas, telling me he would arrive in Atlanta, GA at 2am. “I’ll meet you there,” I said, excited…My husband was coming home. We were newlyweds, so if you are reading this, you can only imagine how much my heart fluttered with excitement.

    Sitting at the Atlanta Airport for several hours, I waited in anticipation! To say the least, his welcome home was fabulous for both of us. Later, after we moved into our home in Mt. Pleasant, our son was playing with a neighbor’s child. Our son mentioned that his dad was a Vietnam Veteran. The woman living at the house heard my son. “Baby killer,” she shouted! “Your daddy is a baby killer.”

    My son rushed home in tears. He was only eight-years-old. He could not understand her anger. I held him tight, reassuring him that Vietnam was a sad time in America. When he calmed down, I knocked on the woman’s door.

    Let’s just say — my Julia Sugarbaker style kicked in. Never did we hear from that neighbor again.

    Today, I am still a proud Vietnam Veteran’s wife, along with our son. Every Veteran’s Day, I make certain my husband is treated with love and respect. I always thank him for his service, and I hug him tight. After all, this is his day. Let us never forget the veterans we have lost, and let us all give thanks for what they experienced. My husband has Post Traumatic Stress Disorder [PTSD]. I am proud to say, his rages appear to be decreasing. Thank goodness. When he does have a nightmare, or something forces his PTSD to kick in, I have learned to treat him with silence.  As the wife, I cannot imagine what he experienced and he does not share those incidents with me. Still, I have all of his letters written to me — approximately 365 letters, still preserved as if they are new, wrapped with a blue ribbon. A few pictures are in those documents. I plan to send them to some military resource that might want to include them in Vietnam memories.

    Today, I wish all of the Veterans Happy Veterans Day. America loves you, and we are so proud of you! Thank you for your service!