Five years ago, if you’d told me I’d spend a sunny LA afternoon on a Zoom call with a pet psychic while my one-and-a-half-year-old Maltipoo, Franklin, happily gnawed on a carrot toy in my lap, I wouldn’t have believed you.

Growing up, my experience with pets was limited—a few forgettable fish and a short-lived hamster I oddly named Shaquille. My childhood pleas for a puppy went unanswered, and my parents were right—they would’ve ended up doing all the care. Later, as friends adopted bodega kittens or became dog parents, I happily visited or dogsat but never felt ready to take the plunge myself.

That changed at 31 when my partner, Rax, and I brought home Franklin, a little white dog. We’d talked about it for years—Rax grew up with a scrappy little white dog, and I, lacking much dog experience, latched onto his dream. It became real when we met Frank at his foster home. He leaped into my arms with a desperate, Little Orphan Annie-like intensity (unusual for him—he’s usually wary of strangers, as his low growls quickly reveal). But the sweetness he showed us that day convinced us he (and his frog-shaped green dog bed) belonged with us.

Nearly a year later, Frank (always Franklin, never Frankie) has traded his plain collar for a beaded Susan Alexandra one from my best friend, Jazmine. And somewhere along the way, I became the kind of person who needs to know if my dog is happy with his life. (I also get tarot readings and drop $20 on Erewhon juices—LA changes you.) So when the chance arose to consult a pet psychic and call it a work expense, I jumped at it.

I booked Jennifer Moore of DearHuman.Pet, an LA animal communicator and former psychotherapist whose warm demeanor seemed perfect for uncovering Frank’s past. Adopting a dog usually means never knowing their full story. We knew his fosters, Tiff and Jeanie, had lovingly rehabilitated him from a traumatized rescue into the sweet dog he is now. But we didn’t know the root of his anxiety. Since I was already deep in therapy myself, why not spend an hour (and $200 of reimbursable money) doing the same for Frank?

“Just like you dreamed of a small white dog named Frank, he dreamed of you,” Moore said early in our session. My inner skeptic quieted. If she could see Frank was meant for us, maybe she was onto something.

She noted Frank was “very intelligent” (true—every trainer we’ve hired says so) and had “a lot to learn” from us, especially about strangers (we like meeting them; he does not, often responding with ear-splitting barks). Then she said something that caught me off guard: “Franklin feels safe, but he’s guarded.” Hours earlier, my own therapist had said nearly the same about me: “Even in this stable chapter, it’s normal to keep walls up from when you needed them.”

The idea of Frank and me healing our attachment wounds together hit me hard—and then I completely lost it when Moore asked permission to…Let me share some of the tougher parts of Frank’s early life. (I’ll keep those private—just in case my dog ever decides to write a memoir like his mom. But trust me, he’s definitely earned his trust issues.)

If I had to pinpoint where Frank’s story and my own overlap most, it would come down to one word: shame. “I want him to know he’s safe, that nothing he could say would put him in danger, and that he doesn’t need to carry shame for anything from his past—none of it was his fault,” Moore told me as she “spoke” with Frank. (Strangely, he did seem aware something was happening, even over Zoom. While they supposedly communicated wordlessly, he let me rub his belly—something he never does.)

I know this sounds like The Body Keeps the Score: Dog Edition, but what struck me was how Moore’s words about shame mirrored my own therapy sessions. I’m great at comforting friends, reminding them to be kind to themselves for how they’ve coped with pain. But after nearly a decade of therapy, I’ve learned I’m terrible at extending that same grace to myself—I always blame myself first. Seeing that same struggle in my ridiculous little dog made me feel a deep tenderness for him… and for his dog mom, too. (Yes, I’ve fully embraced a term I once mocked—my phone case now proudly declares Frank’s Mom in beaded letters.)

Even with a pet psychic, I may never know why my scrappy, crusty, eight-pound nightmare barks at strangers, flinches at loud noises, or acts like we’re abandoning him forever when we drop him at the sitter’s. And maybe that’s okay. I don’t need to know every detail about Frank—or myself—to take good care of us both.

Frequently Asked Questions
FAQs About A Pet Psychic My Quirky Little Maltipoo and Me

General Questions
Q What is A Pet Psychic My Quirky Little Maltipoo and Me about
A Its a heartwarming and humorous memoir about the bond between a pet psychic her quirky Maltipoo and their shared adventures in understanding animal communication

Q Who is the author
A The book is written by a professional pet psychic who shares her personal experiences connecting with animals especially her lovable Maltipoo

Q Is this book fiction or nonfiction
A Nonfictionits based on reallife experiences with pet communication

Pet Psychic Basics
Q What is a pet psychic
A A pet psychic is someone who claims to intuitively understand animals thoughts emotions and behaviors through telepathic connection

Q How does pet communication work
A It involves tuning into an animals energy emotions and images they send mentallysimilar to intuition but focused on animals

Q Can anyone learn to communicate with pets psychically
A Some believe its a natural ability while others think it can be developed through practice meditation and observation

About the Maltipoo
Q Whats a Maltipoo
A A Maltipoo is a crossbreed between a Maltese and a Poodle known for being affectionate playful and hypoallergenic

Q Why is the authors Maltipoo considered quirky
A The book highlights the dogs funny unique behaviors and how the pet psychic interprets themlike unusual habits strong emotions or even talking back

Q Do I need a Maltipoo to enjoy this book
A No Any pet lover or someone curious about animal communication will find it entertaining and insightful

Skepticism Belief
Q Is pet psychic communication scientifically proven
A No its not scientifically validated but many pet owners find it helpful for understanding their pets better